The Wolf and the Rose
by TheMaskedCalligrapher
Summary: Robb Stark goes to treat with Renly Baratheon at Bitterbridge and the outcome of the War of the Five Kings is different. In typical Westerosi fashion, characters are brought together and torn apart just like that. Follows the idea that one different action affects the entire world.
1. Chapter 1: Robb

_Chapter One: Robb_

When dawn broke a league away from Bitterbridge, Robb Stark was already awake in his tent, pacing the floor as he thought about what to say.

Renly Baratheon, the King in Highgarden, had amassed a host of nearly 100,000. The might of the Reach and the Stormlands were behind him, whereas Robb only had the North and the Riverlands, and a host of maybe 30,000. Robb laughed as he thought about the pale comparison between the two hosts and what the Greatjon Umber would say: "Northmen are worth five Southron soldiers any day!" By those numbers, Robb had the advantage. He laughed as he imagined telling Renly that.

Grey Wind was still sleeping; he had been hunting late into the night. But when Robb stepped near, the direwolf leapt to his feet and gave a small growl, as if to say, _You weren't thinking of leaving without me? _Shaking his head with a mild chuckle, Robb emerged from his tent to find the Greatjon, Maege Mormont, and Ser Wendel Manderly already awake and cooking breakfast.

"Good morrow, Your Grace," called the Greatjon with a mouthful of bread. Grey Wind padded over to the fire where Ser Wendel gave him a roast quail to devour.

"Good morrow, Greatjon. Mind your manners today, I'd hate to have to tell the Smalljon that he is now the Lord of Last Hearth because his father mouthed off to some southron soldiers."

"Ha! Good one, Your Grace," laughed Maege Mormont.

"If anyone is going to spoil this treat, do you not think it more likely that the She-Bear with her uncouth ways of fucking bears will be the one," shot back the Greatjon. With a disapproving yet amused look from Robb, the Lord of Last Hearth smiled and said, "No need to worry, Your Grace. I'll keep my tongue so long as Renly Baratheon agrees to help. Otherwise, he might find my sword shoved up his bunghole just before we leave."

Ser Wendel snorted. "I think your sword might find some competition with Ser Loras', my Lord."

Robb turned as the three lords snickered at that, but said nothing. According to Ser Wendel, Renly's camp was not far, for they were due to reach the upper Mander today. _Now I truly must think about what I am going to say to him_. He kept thinking about just what he would say to the King in Highgarden as they set out. The air was warm and humid in the Reach, and the lands were relatively flat and easy to traverse. The sky was cloudy, though no rain was expected. It had been nearly five days since they had departed Riverrun. He had almost sent his mother in his stead, but she had convinced him otherwise. "He may see it as an insult if you do not go to treat with him yourself," she warned. Robb had left the Blackfish in command, ordering him and Ser Edmure to hold the ancestral castle of House Tully no matter what. The Blackfish had snorted when Robb gave him his orders just before he departed. "I will never allow Tywin Lannister to take my home from me, Your Grace. Have no fear on that account."

Around midday, Robb's scout, Robin Flint, came back to announce that sentries on a mill had spotted him, though when they reached the mill, it was not two sentries that awaited them, but rather a small outrider group of twenty men that greeted Robb courteously.

"Greetings, Lord Stark. I have the honor to be Ser Colen of Greenpools, here to escort you to his Grace, King Renly Baratheon, the true king of the Seven Kingdoms."

Robb noted that the knight called him 'lord' rather than 'king' but said nothing. He shot a warning glance at the Greatjon, who, as Robb expected, had opened his mouth to correct the outriders. With Robb's glance, the Greatjon reluctantly closed his mouth. "Lead the way, Ser Colen," commanded Robb.

As they rode, Ser Colen announced that they would head for Bitterbridge, for that was where Renly's host was encamped. Robb noticed that Renly's knights were very wary of Grey Wind, who seemed to take their riding as challenge to run faster. Soon enough, they could smell the smoke of fires burning in the morning breeze, and the sounds of horses whinnying and men shouting filled their ears, growing louder and more raucous as they approached.

Robb thought he knew what a lot of men were when he called the banners of the North and 20,000 men answered his call. Then they passed over a hill and saw Renly's mighty host.

A sprawl of 100,000 men were encamped in the valley on the banks of the Mander. Their house banners were raised high into the air. _I should have sent my mother. She would probably know all of these houses and would not insult one by not recognizing them. _Robb recognized the golden rose of House Tyrell emblazoned on green fluttering in the wind, with many smaller house banners around. He recognized the fox-and-flowers of House Florent and the red huntsman on dark green for House Tarly, the burgundy banners of House Redwyne, but that was all.

To the other side of the Mander, the Stormlords were not to be outdone by the Reachmen. The green sea turtle of House Estermont and the quills of House Penrose were the ones he noticed, but the giant banner that drew Robb's attention was the familiar crowned black stag on gold of House Baratheon. Renly's banner hung over the most impressive tent in the camp, drawing eyes to it immediately.

Next to Robb, Maege Mormont stopped her horse and leaned over. "This king must not be very concerned about enemies if he's just going to announce where his quarters are in the camp."

Ser Colen heard her. "His Grace is protected by 100,000 men. No enemy could get through to him even if they tried."

Robb pushed forward. "Good ser, take me to see King Renly if it please."

The outriders guided them not to Renly's tent, but to a large clearing where it seemed at least 10,000 men were encircled watching something. By the sounds emanating from the clearing it was a melee tourney.

"I wish I could enter, Your Grace," rumbled the Greatjon. "I would show all these southron men how a northman fights true enough!"

Robb smiled. _If we were not here so urgently, I might've let the Greatjon do such a thing._ Ser Colen stopped his horse. "Lord Stark, if your men would be so kind as to wait here, I shall present you to the king. And if you wouldn't mind, please, um, leave the wolf."

Robb nodded, for words would never reach Ser Colen's ears with this kind of roar. He turned to Lady Maege. "Keep them in line, and please do not do anything foolish." Maege grinned and nodded as she disembarked her horse. Robb leaned down to Grey Wind in earshot of the others. "Stay by the Greatjon. If he does anything you do not like, take a few more fingers." Robb saw the Greatjon grin widely as Robb turned and followed Ser Colen's horse, though it was difficult with the crowd.

As they pushed through the mass, Robb glanced at the melee fighters. One man, decked in blue, seemed to be the man to beat. He was far taller than any of the other men, and he sported the quartered sun-and-moon sigil of House Tarth. As Robb rode forward, he was aware that the blue knight was winning, and rather easily too. The men around him shouted, some in glee, some in surprise, and others yelling for Loras Tyrell.

_Renly Baratheon sits here holding tourneys while my men bleed every day to fight Tywin Lannister. I could put these men to good use, blood them properly. _

At last, he could see the gallery properly, where many of the lords and ladies whose banners he had recognized were watching. Lord Randyll Tarly beneath his huntsman banner was watching, with a look of indifference upon his face. Under the green sea turtle of House Estermont sat Lord Eldon Estermont. Robb scanned their faces and spotted the one he was looking for.

Renly Baratheon was Robert all over again, but instead of fat and thick-bearded, he was lean and clean. When Robert had visited Winterfell, Robb had expected a lean, fierce warrior, and instead got a fat, albeit fierce drunk who fathered numerous bastards and yet had no idea that three children he believed were his were not. Renly looked exactly how Eddard Stark used to speak about Robert. _He looks like his brother who toppled the Targaryens. Perhaps he can oust the Lannisters._

But it was the girl who sat next to Renly that caused Robb's heart to skip a beat.

Renly's queen was none other than Margaery Tyrell, daughter of Lord Mace Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden, Lord Paramount of the Reach, and the Warden of the South. She had a doe's sweet eyes and long, light brown locks that fell to her shoulders in lazy ringlets. When Robb looked at Margaery, he wanted nothing more than to be near her. To talk to her. To feel the warmth of her touch. To hear the song that would come every time she spoke. _Those rumors cannot be true about Renly. The most beautiful girl in the world sits beside him. With a beauty like her, why would anyone prefer the company of anyone else?_

But then Robb awakened back to reality. The girl was another king's queen, and he was promised to a Frey. _A king for a crossing, what a stupid price to pay._ Those thoughts had come not for the first time since the Twins, but stronger than ever as he gazed upon Margaery's face. Robb shook his head and turned his attention to the tourney at hand.

In the melee, Ser Loras Tyrell was the last man against the blue knight. The Knight of Flowers raised his axe, but the blue knight charged into it and both of them went sprawling. The blue knight tackled Loras and pulled a knife from its sheath. He held it at the queen's brother's throat.

The roar had subsided, and Robb could properly hear Loras mutter, "Yield. I yield."

As Loras clambered away to regroup, the blue knight came before Renly and knelt. "Rise and remove your helm," the king commanded.

The blue knight removed his helm, and Robb saw that it was not a _he_ at all. The warrior lady rose and exchanged words with Renly, but Robb leaned over to Ser Cleon. "Who is that?"

"Brienne of Tarth, daughter to Lord Selwyn Tarth of Evenfall Hall."

"You don't say," replied Robb. He could tell that the fact that a woman had bested a knight was unsettling to more than a few in the crowd. Personally, Robb did not see the issue, for a warrior was a warrior, especially if she could defeat someone who had the skills of Loras Tyrell. Hell, his own bannerman, Maege Mormont was proud of her prowess in combat, and loved to remind the other Northern lords of this. Robb looked up and was pleased to see that Renly seemed to have the same mindset.

"Done. You shall be one of my seven! Rise, Brienne of the Kingsguard!" Renly clapped, as did the queen. The rest only joined in when Renly did, but Robb doubted Brienne cared as she looked at Renly with pride.

Ser Cleon dismounted, and Robb followed. "Your Grace, I beg your leave. I have the honor to bring you Robb Stark, Lord of Winterfell."

Robb felt the words escape his lips before he could stop them, "Lord of Winterfell and King in the North." Renly looked at him, and Robb felt all eyes turn to him.

Renly smiled warmly, though there was a slight look of surprise on his face. "Of course, King Robb. Titles are rather unimportant, what with the present war at hand. There will be time for all that later. Nevertheless, we are most pleased to have you in our company. May I present my beloved wife, the Lady Margaery of House Tyrell."

Queen Margaery leaned forward. "You are most welcome here, King Robb. I am so sorry for your recent loss." As Robb expected, her voice seemed to fill him with unbound strength. He almost wished Tywin Lannister and his whole army were here right now; with her speaking to him, he felt as if he could take on all of them at once. He wondered if this was the feeling the Greatjon seemed to constantly possess.

"You are most kind, Your Grace."

"I swear to you that I will see the Lannisters answer for your father's murder." In a slightly higher and more commanding voice, Renly announced, "When I take King's Landing, I'll bring you Joffrey's head!" The lords and knights around him roared in approval.

"Thank you, Your Grace, but it will be enough to know that justice has been done."

"Have you marched against Tywin Lannister yet?" interrupted Loras Tyrell. The Knight of Flowers had recovered from his defeat and had marched over to face Robb. Before he could answer, Lord Randyll Tarly spoke up, "At least you had the decency to come pay homage to King Renly yourself. What have you done with the Kingslayer?"

Robb faced Ser Loras first. "My war councils are just that, ser. Mine. Perhaps if we come to an agreement I would be more than happy to share with you my plans. But make no mistake, ser, I am fighting a war. Not playing at one."

That drew a laugh from the crowd, the king included. But Robb noticed that the queen did not laugh. Robb turned to Lord Randyll. "As for the Kingslayer, he remains my prisoner at Riverrun."

One of the other lords, the one seated beneath a golden tree, leaned forward. "Why is he still alive?"

"If I had the Kingslayer, I'd slit his throat without a second thought."

"Perhaps the direwolf is tamer than the lion."

"Show the Lannisters that you pay your debts too! They killed your father, pay them back by killing Joffrey's!"

Many other calls and yells had arisen from the status of Jaime Lannister's imprisonment. But Renly silenced them all by raising his hand and turning to the golden tree lord. "Lord Rowan go easy. Any man who can capture the Kingslayer is no weakling. And lest we forget, Cersei Lannister has his sisters as captives in King's Landing."

Renly turned to Robb. "My lords, find suitable places for our guests. King Robb, you are welcome to use mine own pavilion. After you are rested, perhaps you would be so kind as to dine with me, my sweet queen, and mine lords." With that, Renly rose from the gallery and strode off toward the castle of Bitterbridge, leading Margaery away. The queen glanced at Robb one last time and followed the king towards the castle, along with Brienne of Tarth, Ser Loras, and about thirty other lords and knights.

Robb turned and strode towards Renly's impressive tent. Ser Cleon had taken Robb's companions to their own tents, and Grey Wind had already made himself at home on a fur rug that lay at the side of Robb's bed. Inside, Renly's armor decked the green halls of the canvas tent, but it was obvious from the lack of marks that the armor had rarely, if ever, been used. There was scarcely something Robb could imagine that was not provided for him in the tent, from entertainment to reading material. Robb could not imagine trying to lug this luxury around the Riverlands. _Oh yes, the Mountain is approaching, you say? Sure, let me put down my harp and board games and show him what for!"_

For the first time in what felt like eons, Robb removed his armor and wore the white and grey garb he had worn when King Robert and the royal court had visited Winterfell. He had become so accustomed to battle that he honestly wore nothing but armor except to sleep. At last, he was ready to attend the feast and summoned Grey Wind to accompany him. He wondered what his mother would say if she knew he was going to treat with mistrusting lords and ladies with a wild animal at his side.

When Robb arrived at the feast, all eyes turned to him and the whispers began as he and Grey Wind strode into the hall. The bemused look on Renly's face made it difficult not to laugh as he approached the dais.

"My apologies, Your Grace. My friend here was a tad hungry and I could not refuse him a proper meal. It did not seem prudent to let him wander the woods for supper."

Renly laughed, but was more interested in studying Grey Wind. "As long as you promise he won't eat any of my bannermen, he may stay. I say, a direwolf south of the Wall…" Queen Margaery on the other hand was very interested in Grey Wind. She gazed at him curiously before gently tossing a roast goose down to him. It never made it to the floor, for Grey Wind leapt up and snatched it out of the air. Many of the other lords gasped, one even actually stood and ran a few paces before quickly sitting back down, but Margaery looked most impressed.

During the feast, Robb sat next to Lord Mathis Rowan, the Lord of Goldengrove who had called him out for not killing Jaime Lannister. To his right was Renly himself, who likewise had Margaery on his right. Robb could not remember the last time he ate food with such splendor. Highgarden, the seat of House Tyrell, had provided the feast, and they did not disappoint. But it was the lords that Robb was most anxious to observe.

Renly spoke with Margaery and planted light kisses on her cheek during the feast, but seemed more lively with Ser Loras, who stood behind his sister. Many of the other lords were lively and became less composed as the feast wore on, and Robb ended up making conversation with Lord Rowan and Brienne of Tarth, who seemed most interested in her food, only looking up when spoken to.

"I hope you will forgive me, Lord Stark, for my rudeness earlier today, it is not my place to tell you what to do with your prisoners. I had forgotten the Lannisters have your sisters."

"There's nothing to forgive, Lord Rowan."

"These men are so young, you know. Barely men and marching off to war against the likes of Tywin Lannister and Stannis Baratheon."

"My mother would pity them, my lord. And for good reason."

Brienne of Tarth looked up at Robb. "For what reason could you have to pity them?"

"Because they are the knights of summer, and winter is coming," replied the Young Wolf.

Both Brienne and Lord Rowan looked derisive. "Winter will never come for us. We will either die gloriously in battle in the name of King Renly and be immortalized in the songs of summer or else we will fight and live to see His Grace crowned," Brienne exclaimed boldly.

Robb said nothing, but in his head recalled something his father once told him. 'The Stark words never lie. Winter will always come, again and again.'

Suddenly, Renly leaned over to Robb. "Apologies, my friends. Might I steal away the King in the North for a few moments?"

Brienne leapt to her feet. "Your Grace, give me a but a moment to don my mail and keep you safe."

Renly waved her off. "No need, Brienne. Eat and enjoy your victory. I daresay I am in no danger surrounded by own men, and should any trouble arise, the Young Wolf and I can fight off any challenge together."

Robb could tell that Renly's words stung Brienne, but the warrior the others mockingly called "Beauty" said nothing and sat down to her meal. Robb followed Renly out of the pavilion.

The two kings strolled along the hall and up a stair tower. "I meant what I said to Lady Brienne. Together, I believe that Stark and Baratheon can fight off any peril, even the Lannisters."

Robb mulled over that as Renly changed the subject. "Is Ser Barristan Selmy in your service at Riverrun?"

That took Robb by surprise. "The Lord Commander of Robert's Kingsguard? Should he not still be in King's Landing, sworn to Joffrey?"

Renly shook his head as they ascended another staircase. "Apparently, the Lannisters dismissed him shortly after Joffrey took the Iron Throne. Said he was getting too old. I'd take a single Barristan Selmy over a hundred swords any day. Legendary warrior, you know. When he did not turn up at Highgarden, I assumed he had gone to Riverrun for you. It's said that he left to fight for the true king."

Changing topics again, Renly said, "Of your father, he was a good man. He was loyal to Robert through and through. I offered to help ensure his place on the throne, but he would not hear of it. I am sorry that I did not stay to help him, but I knew Cersei would capture me if I stayed in the capital."

Robb gave a solitary nod. Even now, thinking of his father was hard. The stories had come from all over at Riverrun, but the details that seemed to recur the most was that Eddard Stark confessed to treason against the Crown and was beheaded in front of his daughter.

Just then, a knight caught up to them. "Ser Alyn Estermont," greeted Renly.

"Your Grace, beg your pardon, but Ser Loras is requesting to speak with you privately."

Renly nodded. "Of course. A strategy session. Robb, I would like to continue our discussion afterwards. If you would like, await me in my chambers. Ser Alyn here will escort you." With that, Renly strode briskly away.

Ser Alyn led Robb up to the top floor and pointed to a chamber door. "Wait for the king in there."

Robb entered the chamber and was surprised to see he was not alone.

Margaery Tyrell sat on the floor, stroking Grey Wind's fur ever so gently. It was only then that Robb remembered he had left Grey Wind at the feast. The fact that the direwolf trusted Margaery so quickly was surprising.

"Hello, Your Grace. Your companion, Lord Umber, was showing his hands at the feast and claimed that your wolf bit his fingers off. I was leaving anyway, so I thought I would prevent any lords from panicking by bringing him here."

Robb regained his composure. "It is no trouble at all, Your Grace. But please, call me Robb."

"Only if you call me Margaery."

Robb smiled. "It's a deal. So, Grey Wind seems to have taken a liking to you. Perhaps he likes your scent."

"He is so sweet. I can scarcely believe that this adorable creature has killed other men. You know, some men claim you ride into battle on his back."

Robb sat down on the floor next to her, scratching Grey Wind's chin. "Actually, Grey Wind runs beside me. He's saved my life more times than I think is reasonable."

Robb suddenly found himself with limited thoughts, so he smiled as warmly as he could. In return, Margaery gave him a soft, sweet smile. _I hope Renly's strategy session isn't too short. _"So, you are the queen," he said awkwardly, trying to think of something to say. Margaery laughed. "Yes, and you are a king. Do you have a queen?"

"I am betrothed to one of Lord Walder Frey's daughters. We shall marry as soon as the war is over."

Margaery smirked at him. "Lord Frey? I mean no offense, but why would you agree to marry one of his daughters? You are so comely, and from what I've heard, his family is, well, not." She said the last bit with an embarrassed look on her face. "I am sorry, I did not mean to insult the family of your future bride."

Robb shook his head. "I did not want it. But it was the price I paid to cross the Twins. I have sworn a vow; I must keep it."

Margaery nodded, understanding. "I know how you feel. My king, I met him only on the day of our wedding, and it was solely to unite our houses."

"I hope that you are happy with King Renly. I only met His Grace today, but he seems like a good man. You have made him happy."

Margaery's expression turned a little wistful. "His Grace is indeed a good man, but…"

"But…what?" asked Robb.

"It is nothing. I should not have spoken."

"Forgive me for prying, Margaery."

Margaery looked at Robb with a curious look on her face. "It has long been said that the walls of the Red Keep have ears. If I am to say something, I would like to say it without fear that someone would overhear it. Renly will take King's Landing, and when he does, I may never get another chance to tell someone."

"What is it?"

"Renly's happiness does not come from my company. He prefers the company of my brother, Ser Loras."

_So the rumors were true. _"My queen, if you are unhappy…"

Margaery gazed into Robb's eyes. "I thought I asked you to call me Margaery. Also, I am not unhappy. I am queen, and soon I will be the queen of all Seven Kingdoms, not just two. But, I must confess, I would be happier if I was married to a man who enjoyed my company."

"I enjoy your company, Lady Margaery." The words slipped out before he could stop them, and Robb found himself gazing into Margaery's soft brown eyes. _Her eyes are so warm…Renly Baratheon is a lucky man, even if he does not know it._

Suddenly, both of them stood up so quickly that Grey Wind stood too and snarled at the sudden lack of stroking and scratching. "Your royal husband is to meet me here. We did not get a chance to finish our conversation. I might meet with him in the hall." Robb spoke so quickly he was not sure Margaery even understood him. Robb and Grey Wind burst out the door…smack into Renly.

"Robb, there you are. A rider has just informed me. My own seat, Storm's End, is under siege. I must head there immediately. I would ask you to accompany me."

Robb shook his head. "Lord Tywin could not have possibly left Harrenhal and made it all the way to Storm's End before my bannermen would have notified me."

Renly smirked. "It is not the Lannisters. It is my dear elder brother, King Stannis, as he so calls himself."

* * *

**Author's Note: So this story will cover an alternate path of the War of the Five Kings, incorporating elements from both the books and the TV show. I plan to take it from Robb Stark going to treat with Renly Baratheon instead of Catelyn all the way through Daenerys Targaryen's war for Westeros. Also, as a disclaimer, I do not own George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire or the characters.**


	2. Chapter 2: Robb

_Chapter Two: Robb_

"Your Grace, we've received word from Lord Stannis' outriders. He's accepted a parley with you tomorrow at midday at the gates of Storm's End."

Robb looked up from the map he was currently poring over with Renly. It had been a week since they had departed Bitterbridge and rode hard for Storm's End, where Stannis Baratheon was laying siege to the ancestral castle of House Baratheon. And once they had gotten there, Robb had insisted that he and Renly open formal negotiations of an alliance between them. That was what the two kings were doing when the knight had entered the tent. Ser Alyn Estermont had entered the war tent with good news, but for a man who was delivering good news, Ser Alyn had an unpleasant look on his face, like he was smelling horseshit.

Apparently, Renly had a similar thought. "Excellent, Ser Alyn. Why do you look so glum, my friend?"

The knight looked from Renly to Robb and back. "You have a visitor, Your Grace. You both do."

That was a surprise to Robb. He had only come to Storm's End because Renly had asked him to. His own lords that had accompanied him were starting to get restless. The Greatjon had spoken to him just the previous night, "Your Grace, we should return to Riverrun and prepare our attack on the Westerlands. Your own men need you, Renly Baratheon does not." Robb still held out hope of an alliance and had decided to stay until Renly had taken care of Stannis. But still, no one except for his men back in Riverrun and Renly's own men knew he was here. No one should be visiting him here.

"Who is it?" asked Renly.

"Lord Petyr Baelish, Your Grace," sighed Ser Alyn.

Instantly, Robb and Renly's faces contorted into identical scowls. "I suppose we should greet him, what say you King Robb?"

Robb sighed. _If meeting Littlefinger hurries this along and helps me solidify an alliance with Renly, then by all means. _"We should not keep a lord of such renown as Littlefinger waiting."

Renly gave a short laugh and hurried out of the tent, with Brienne of Tarth and Loras Tyrell trailing not far behind him. Robb clicked his fingers at Grey Wind, who stood and followed Robb out of the tent. It was late afternoon and the sun was about to set, turning the sky a brilliant mixture of gold and blue. There was not even the slightest flutter of a breeze, making the day rather warm. _With this kind of weather, no wonder Brienne and the others think winter will never come. _But it would, it always did. Robb quickened his pace and fell into line beside Renly. They strolled down the main path of his camp, noticing the bows and praise that the others bestowed upon Renly.

They did not have far to walk, for standing in the middle of the camp attended to by Ser Cleon was a small and slender man. He had a pointed beard with gray hair mixed in with the black, though he could not have passed more than thirty namedays. He had a smile on his face as the party approached, but Robb instantly noted that his eyes did not match his smile. To add to his suspicions, Grey Wind started growling the second he lay eyes on the man everyone called 'Littlefinger'.

Renly approached Littlefinger with a look of disdain etched on his face. "Ah, my favorite whoremonger. I pray I have not kept you waiting long." Renly strode past Littlefinger into the nearest tent. Robb noted that Littlefinger's face matched Renly's exactly; the same look of contempt.

"Your Grace," said Littlefinger quietly.

Then Littlefinger turned to Robb. "Your Grace, the King in the North, is it? I had not thought to meet you here. I assumed that your mother, the fair Lady Catelyn would be here." Littlefinger spoke to Robb, but his eyes were locked on Grey Wind, who was growling and snarling louder by the second.

"I thought it would be more seemly to treat directly with King Renly rather than send an envoy. I trust that my presence here does not intrude upon your plans, Lord Baelish?"

"Of course not, Your Grace. Come, we should not keep His Grace Renly waiting." Littlefinger ducked into the tent, and Robb followed.

Robb knew all about Petyr Baelish. His father and Maester Luwin would sometimes tell him and Jon about Robert's Rebellion. One of the key points was that his mother was actually betrothed to his uncle Brandon, who was the heir to Winterfell. Petyr Baelish had been in love with Catelyn since childhood and had challenged Brandon to a duel for Catelyn's hand against everyone's advice. Brandon had won, but even after his father had married his mother, both Robb and his father suspected Littlefinger to still be in love with Catelyn. _I don't trust Littlefinger one bit. Perhaps if he displeases us, Grey Wind can give him a real scare._

Robb chuckled at that quietly to himself as Renly and Littlefinger began to converse.

Inside, Renly sat down at a desk while Brienne stood guard over him. Renly pored over some letters with his back to Littlefinger, giving the impression that he did not particularly care about Littlefinger's presence. "So now you do the Lannisters' bidding, is it? Tell me, was my brother's body even cold before you secured your newest patron?"

Robb stood halfway between them, watching them both carefully. Littlefinger's face was passive as he replied, "I'm a practical man."

Renly glanced up at Brienne. "Just not a loyal one."

"And who would you have me be loyal to? Your brother's corpse?" fired back Littlefinger.

At those words, Renly stood and faced his guest directly. "I don't like you Lord Baelish. My friend here doesn't like you," he said, gesturing to Robb. "I don't like your face. I don't like the words that come oozing out of your mouth. I don't want you in my tent one minute more than necessary. So tell me, why are you here?"

Littlefinger's eyes swept over Robb, then to Brienne. Renly waved them off. "You can trust Brienne. Her loyalty comes without charge. And as for Robb Stark, well, I'd trust him sooner than I'd trust you any day of the year."

"You still have many friends at court, Your Grace. Many who believed, forgive me," the Master of Coin quipped as his eyes once again found Robb, "that Ned Stark erred by not supporting your claim as king." _No, you are not forgiven for such slander, Littlefinger._

Renly smirked at Littlefinger. "Now I understand. You know I have the numbers. You wish to retain your position when I take King's Landing. And your head."

"I would give priority to my head. I understand you do not like me. That saddens me greatly, but I came not to seek your affection. When you march on the capital, you may find yourself facing a protracted siege…or open gates." Littlefinger let that last statement linger in the air as he turned to Robb.

"And for the King in the North…the Imp has heard your peace terms. As you know, he has rejected them outright. His primary concern is that of the Kingslayer."

Robb took a step toward Littlefinger. "I will not release the Kingslayer, no matter what Tyrion Lannister says. And my father did what he thought was right, Lord Baelish. You rewarded his honor by betraying him."

Littlefinger's eyes narrowed. "I begged your father to serve as Protector of the Realm, to seize the power."

"And when he didn't go along with your plan, you handed him over to the queen and Joffrey. I will not dishonor my father's memory by listening to your lies one second longer!"

Littlefinger raised his hands in mock surrender. "I can see that I have upset you. But it was the queen and Joffrey who killed your father. I tried to help him. So did His Grace King Renly. You do not seem to have the same animosity towards His Grace as you seem to have for me…Your Grace. As a token of goodwill, I have a gift for you." He clapped his hands, and two Silent Sisters brought in a wooden box.

"I wish nothing from you," sneered Robb.

"It is not from me. Nor is it from Cersei or Joffrey. It is from Tyrion Lannister. As I said earlier, the Imp has great concern for the welfare of his beloved elder brother. I know that you can understand such concern. Your sisters, Sansa and Arya, they are well cared for, but I fear for their longevity the longer they remain in the capital."

"Are you threatening my sisters?"

"I would never, Your Grace. But you have surprised them with your skills in the field, your capture of the Kingslayer. Every time you win against the Lannisters, your sister Sansa suffers for it. Joffrey torments her each time you are victorious. But the Imp is sympathetic to you. He, like you, wants his family back. He gives this to you in hopes that peace can eventually be achieved between your two great houses. He, and I, thought it was time the honorable Lord of Winterfell was returned to where he belongs."

Robb turned his attention to the box. He knelt, opened it, and stared at the bones that lay inside. His father's bones. He could not help it; he could feel tears starting to form in his eyes. _Poor Father, I failed you. I am looking at the very evidence of my failure to rescue you. I wonder if you forgive me. _Without another word, he picked up the box and swept from the tent. But Littlefinger said, "Forgive me, Your Grace. I shall take mine own leave with the King in the North." And the Master of Coin followed him out.

It was now dark out; lanterns had been lit to illuminate the path. Robb carried the box as quickly as he could, hoping that Littlefinger's quarters were on the other side of the camp. But no such luck, as Littlefinger fell in line beside him.

"Give my regards to your mother, Your Grace. Lady Catelyn, I have always had a certain affection towards her." _Is he actually trying to get me to talk him up to my mother right now?_

Robb could not very well run whilst carrying the box that contained his father's remains, nor could he as King in the North. But thankfully, Grey Wind had followed them out of Renly's tent, and the three of them set off for Robb's tent. Robb was pleased to see that Littlefinger was noticeably uncomfortable with the direwolf's company but said nothing. Suddenly Grey Wind's aggressive demeanor stopped, and he began to wag his tail and pant like he was a newborn puppy. Robb looked behind and saw the reason. Ser Loras and Queen Margaery were walking down the path behind them. Ser Loras drew even with Renly's tent and disappeared inside, but Margaery continued down the path towards Robb and Littlefinger.

"Lord Baelish, how nice to see you." The young queen spoke with such soft courtesy that Robb could not tell if she held any true animosity towards Littlefinger. "King Robb, a pleasure to see you as well. And how are _you,_" she crooned as she stroked Grey Wind's head. Robb smiled and mentally shook his head. _My direwolf goes from fearsome beast to innocent pup whenever she comes near._

"Your Grace," schmoozed Littlefinger. "All of these tents look the same to me. Would you be so kind…?"

"It would be my pleasure. It took me weeks to learn my way around the camp. And each time I learn which tent is mine, we are on the move again."

Littlefinger gave her a small smile, but there was more deviousness than sincerity in it. "Your tent…not _our_ tent? Does the king snore, perhaps, or prefer solitude?"

"Are you insinuating something, Lord Baelish?" snapped Robb. Grey Wind gave a low growl, but Margaery gave the both of them soft smiles. "There's no need. I'm sure Lord Baelish was just wondering about my sleeping arrangements, but if you have such cause for concern, by all means, take the matter up with my royal husband."

Littlefinger twisted his beard. "I noticed your brother entering His Grace's tent just now."

Margaery's response was quick. "The place of a Kingsguard is by the King."

"And on your wedding night, who was by the king's side then?"

"You seem quite interested in our marriage."

"Your marriage is quite interesting to me. Not only to me, but to the realm."

Margaery stopped and faced Littlefinger directly. "You have never been married, have you, my lord?"

"I have been unsuccessful in that manner, Your Grace, just as unlucky as our friend the King in the North has been." Littlefinger gestured to Robb.

"Perhaps it is just as well for you. Unlike His Grace King Robb, the concept of marriage seems to utterly confuse you. So, allow me to explain. My husband is my king and my king is my husband. Here is your tent, Lord Baelish. Good night."

And with that the queen strolled away as briskly as she could, and Robb found himself jogging to keep up with her. "I apologize for Lord Baelish, Margaery."

"For what? You did not make him ask those insipid questions." _No, but all the same he obviously caused you discomfort, and for that I am sorry._ "Are you alright?"

Margaery smiled, and Robb could tell that it was no fake smile like the one he was certain she gave Littlefinger. "I am fine. My brother is currently with the king, so I find myself in need of companionship. My first thought was to find Grey Wind, of course." She scratched the direwolf on his head, causing him to wag his tail so wildly Robb thought it might spin off and fly away.

A few more paces had passed before Robb thought of a topic to discuss. _I'm still having trouble thinking clearly around her._

"I am to join your brother and your husband at the parley with Lord Stannis tomorrow. My father used to say he could not believe that Robert and Stannis shared a mother. I've met King Robert, and I am trying to envision the opposite of such a man."

Margaery was silent for a moment, but then said, "I've always imagined Lord Stannis to be like your father, but without any humor or any emotion, really."

Robb arched an eyebrow. "You've never met Lord Stannis? Was he not present for your wedding to Renly?"

Margaery shook her head. "I was married to Renly just after your lord father was executed by the Lannisters. By then, both Lord Stannis and Renly were calling the banners to war."

They had reached Robb's tent, where the Greatjon and Maege Mormont were standing. "Your Grace…Your Grace," called the Greatjon, adding the second title for Margaery's benefit. His voice had such vigor and carried in such a way that many knights across the path suddenly snapped to attention, believing that Renly was at hand. "At ease, my lord. As it happens, I have need of you and Lady Mormont to take this to your quarters."

"Is that…" started Lady Mormont.

"My lord father's remains. Lord Eddard Stark should be returned to Winterfell immediately so that he may rest in the crypts beneath Winterfell alongside his parents, his brother, and his sister."

The Greatjon nodded solemnly. "I would be honored to escort Lord Stark to his rightful resting place, Your Grace." Robb nodded. "I would ask the both of you to go. Have no fear, I am in no danger here in King Renly's company. Grey Wind and Ser Wendel shall remain to me, but the rest of you must go. I fear a battle between Stannis and Renly is nigh approaching, and I will not chance my father's remains being lost."

"Do you mean to fight alongside King Renly, Your Grace?" asked Lady Mormont.

"I hope it does not come to battle, but I am close to securing an alliance with Renly. Should battle between the Baratheon brothers come, I will fight alongside King Renly once we have come to an alliance. Doubtless, he will want our men to march with him to King's Landing once he has defeated Stannis, or have our men meet him there. Regardless, I would have my father returned home beforehand. Take it by way of Riverrun, so my lady mother might see her husband one last time before he descends into the crypts."

The Greatjon nodded. "I will defend Lord Eddard with my life, Your Grace. We shall set forth at break of day." With that, the Greatjon and Lady Mormont gingerly carried the box containing the remains of Lord Eddard Stark away.

"Are you alright?" asked Margaery.

Robb stirred. He had been on the verge of tears again, but it would be unseemly to cry in front of a queen, even if he was a king. "Yes, thank you. My tent is here, I thank you for escorting me."

Margaery smiled warmly. "Your thanks are appreciated, but not necessary. I was already on my way here. I wonder if you would not mind my company for a short spell longer?"

_I ought not to, she is Renly's queen. He might actually kill me if I…No, nothing will happen. I stopped myself at Bitterbridge, I can control myself. We shall simply talk, nothing more. _"Of course not, Margaery, come in."

Inside, Grey Wind padded over to his rug and promptly went to sleep.

There was not a place to sit for guests, so both Robb and Margaery sat down on his bed. For a moment, the two of them looked at one another, then glanced away.

"So, tell me about the North. I have never been but I would like to know all about it, and what better man to tell me than its king?"

Robb looked directly into her warm, brown eyes. "It is very…cold."

Margaery laughed so hard at that Robb was sure that the entire camp could hear. Hell, he was certain his brothers in Winterfell could hear her. When she finally stopped laughing, Robb said, "In truth, the North is a beautiful country. It is the land of honor and integrity. It _is _rather cold, but not so at Winterfell; the castle is built on a hot spring, so it is relatively warm. The people there usually are wary of outsiders and southerners, but they respect loyalty above all else."

Margaery smiled. "It sounds absolutely lovely. I cannot imagine why my husband would want to part with such a land."

"I assure you, I negotiated hard for dominion over the North. He at last relented," Robb joked.

The queen gave him a smirk that seemed to warm Robb all over. _I mustn't…she's Renly's queen…I'm to marry a Frey…she's Renly's queen…A king for a crossing, why did I ever consent…she's Renly's queen…_

"For a warlike Northerner, I think you'd fit in well at Highgarden. When the fighting is over, and you and Renly are kings for all time, won't you grace us with a visit there?"

"Won't you live in King's Landing?" asked Robb.

"Surely, but I intend for my children to know where their mother hails from. Say what you will about Cersei, at least she made sure her children were proud of their Lannister heritage."

"In that case, I wouldn't dream of turning down such an invitation. Though I might have to leave Grey Wind. The warm temperatures don't agree with him, even here."

Margaery gave the tiniest of pouts. "A shame. I suppose I'll have to make do with you," she said, fake sighing, the smirk on her face returning. Robb felt his face grow slightly warmer. _She's Renly's queen._

Suddenly, Margaery stood up and walked over to the desk where Renly had left a book open. "Oh yes, _The Traditional Dances of Westeros_. My mother gifted this to Renly on our wedding day, but he had no need for it, he dances beautifully."

"I'm sure he does. My own sister used to joke that I had two left feet when it came to dancing, I preferred to practice swordplay," said Robb.

Margaery raised an eyebrow. "I must see this dancing style. Is two left feet common in the North?"

"No more common than it is in the Reach."

"Then, you must allow me to teach you. The Freys are from the south, you will be expected to dance with your bride at your wedding, and properly I might add. Please, allow me to teach you," begged Margaery.

Robb was not aware of agreeing or standing, all he knew was one moment he was sitting on his featherbed and the next he was standing barely half a foot away from Margaery, his hands around her waist and hers around his neck.

As they swayed to nonexistent music, Robb could not help but wonder why Renly would prefer Loras' company to that of his sister's. Then he realized that Renly had it best; he preferred Loras but married Margaery for political gain. The two looked so alike that Renly did not have to settle for looking at a less appealing face. Come to think of it, Loras and Margaery looked more alike than the Lannister twins. But Margaery's face, her smile, her laugh, her warmth…they all outshined Cersei's by a hundred leagues. Robb remembered the queen when she had visited Winterfell. He wondered if in the future, Margaery might visit him at Winterfell.

As Margaery twirled in place, Robb could not help but stare. It was only natural, he was a man, but as he tried to convince himself that it was wrong to stare at her perfect breasts, her breathtaking curves, he still did it all the same. He had to slightly turn away, for his cock had begun to stir. _I mustn't…she's Renly's queen…_

At last, Robb stepped back. "Why are you stopping now? You're a natural, so graceful. I do not believe for a second that you have two left feet. You dance better than myself," laughed Margaery.

Robb focused on Grey Wind. It was much easier to look at the direwolf, who was snoozing peacefully without a care in the world. _I envy you, Grey Wind. I wonder if you have ever envied me but right now, I envy you. _"I feel a bit tired. I might sleep so I am refreshed for the parley tomorrow. It would be rather rude to Lord Stannis to show up half-awake."

"Alright then. If I upset you in some way, I apologize deeply. Good night, Robb."

With that, Margaery took her leave. Robb watched her go before lying down on his bed. _You are this close, Robb. Do not ruin an alliance with Renly by lusting for his wife. Control yourself._

But no matter how many times he repeated it to himself, he could not quite get Margaery Tyrell's tantalizing smile and deep brown eyes out of his head.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Once again, I am not George R.R. Martin and thus I do not own these characters.**


	3. Chapter 3: Margaery

_Chapter Three: Margaery_

As she left the King in the North's tent, Margaery did her best to keep a level head and a passive face. She began strolling leisurely back to her tent, just a short walk away. It worked, of course, as no one looked at her strangely or whispered whilst looking at her. Lady Olenna would be proud; her grandmother had drilled it into her that courtesy was a woman's armor and a blank face was the ultimate form of denial.

_But there was no denying to yourself_.

When Renly had initially been married to her, she thought herself the luckiest maiden in the Seven Kingdoms. Renly Baratheon was a fantasy come alive; his sweet words, kind disposition, handsome face, long jet-black mane, and most of all, his gorgeous blue-green eyes that seemed to differ from day to day. Their wedding day was a splendid affair, the kind she had dreamed about since she was a young girl. It was the happiest day of her life…until her new husband spent their wedding night with her brother.

It was a paper marriage, nothing more, and Renly now had the numbers to take King's Landing, which would make her the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, not just of the Stormlands and the Reach. Still, from time to time, she could not help her feelings and would wish that Renly would be interested in her, would love her. Her stroll had taken her to Renly's tent, and she stepped inside, as Lady Brienne, who was standing ever dutiful outside the pavilion, bowed to her as she passed.

She entered Renly's tent that he had no doubt been sharing with Loras until moments ago. But Margaery did not mind, even as he attempted to spare her feelings by claiming he was too drunk with wine to perform properly.

"You look very beautiful, Your Grace. That's a lovely gown," Renly said, subtly trying to divert her attention.

"You think so?" Margaery asked. "I can't decide how I like it better…this way…or _this way._" Margaery had undone her corset and bared her breasts for her royal husband to see.

"You certainly don't need it," Renly said, but there was no true love in his voice as Margaery leaned in to kiss him. "But some say… the beauty most desired…is the beauty concealed."

Margaery held her hand to his lips and surged forward again. _Tonight will be the night._ She had fondled with his cock through his breeches but was dismayed to feel nothing. No arousal, no stir, nothing.

"Must be the wine," Renly said apologetically.

Margaery was undeterred. Even if he did love her brother, his duty as a king and as a husband was sire a child with her. A prince for the Seven Kingdoms. "Allow me," she said softly. She began to unlace his breeches with her hands as she kissed him over and over. _Yes, tonight will be the night._

But when Margaery had looked up at her husband's face, he looked like he was going to be sick. It was clearly taking all of his resolve not to run away or throw up. At last, Margaery gave up and stepped slightly back.

Renly suppressed a shudder. "I'm sorry."

Margaery watched him sadly. "Do you want my brother to come in and help?" _Why would you say such a thing, he is still your king, your husband, you are mocking him! _

Renly whirled around in shock. "What?"

"Oh, he could get you started, I know he wouldn't mind. Or I could turn over and you can pretend I'm him?" Margaery said innocently.

Grandmother would be proud. The Queen of Thorns always spoke her mind, and Margaery was starting to get weary of playing around. She did not mind that Renly loved Loras, but he still had a duty to her, to the realm. It fell to her to remind him of that.

But Renly, like most men, played dumb when exposed. "I don't know what you're talking about." And he had sat down on the featherbed.

Margaery straightened herself. "There's no need for us to play games. Save your lies for court, you are going to need a lot of them," she said seriously, sounding more like an advisor than a wife. She sat down next to Renly and grasped his left hand with her right.

"Your enemies aren't happy about us. They want to tear us apart. And the best way to stop them is to put your baby in my belly." Margaery said it so pragmatically, so obviously, that if another were to overhear them, they would assume Margaery was talking about battle strategy. "We'll try again later," she continued. "You decide how you want to do it: with me, with me and Loras, however else you like."

Margaery gently pulled Renly's face to look directly at her own. "Whatever you need to do. You are a _king._"

And with that, Margaery quietly got dressed and headed off to her own tent. She put on her nightgown and slipped under the sheets but lay awake for some time after. The situation she had found herself in seemed hopeless. A king who loved her brother more than he would ever love her. He may care for her, but at sixteen, she was doomed to a life of eventual unhappiness. Right now she might be okay with it now, but she wondered if she were to wake up in a year, or ten, or fifty and still be okay with it.

Margaery did not remember falling asleep or dreaming, but the next thing she knew, Renly was in her tent at mid-morning.

"Rise, my queen. I trust you slept well." _So, I suppose we are just going to pretend last night never happened. _

"Fine, my king. I am rather famished. Perhaps some bacon or some fruit. I cannot decide what I want."

"I shall have the cooks send over whatever it is your stomach desires." _My belly desires your prince. _"Yes, my king, that will be fine. But enough on me. You are going to take back your home today. Storm's End will once again be yours, truly, once you have defeated your brother, the false claimant."

Renly smiled. "I hope my brother sees sense. He's a military man, a battle commander. Surely, he knows the side with the larger number most often wins. And when the larger number is three, perhaps four times the smaller, they always win, do they not?"

"Of course they do, my king."

Renly glanced at the wardrobe in the corner of the tent. "My lady, it is my wish that you accompany me to the parley today."

That caught her by surprise. "Why, my king? It was my understanding that war is more so a man's job. What place would a woman have at a parley?"

Renly smirked. "Stannis is bringing his wife and that fire priestess we keep hearing about. I suppose if I had so few men willing to fight and declare for me that I would attempt to bolster my numbers with women too. If you come, it will show Stannis that I am everything he has and more."

Margaery smiled. "It would be my honor, my king."

"Good. And, um, about last night…"

"You have nothing to apologize for, Your Grace. You weren't ready. We'll try again when you are."

"When? Not…_if_?" Renly seemed utterly unconvinced that he would ever be ready to give her a child, but Margaery knew her duty. If Renly was to take the crown, he would need to have an heir. A strong family. The words of House Tyrell were 'Growing Strong'. Their marriage needed to grow stronger with a child.

"You will be ready to take me, Renly. One day. When you are ready, we shall have a child."

But Renly looked away, embarrassed. Margaery was about to speak again when Renly turned back to her. "I had a thought, my lady. Your brother makes me happy. Perhaps you can be happy as well with someone else."

Margaery was shocked. "I am the queen. You are the only man I desire."

"Why not? Kings and queens take other lovers all the time. Robert had a different whore every night of the year. And we all know that Cersei preferred her twin brother to the king. Why should you be denied that same pleasure?"

"I am not Cersei Lannister. My place as queen is by the side of the king."

Renly suddenly got a sly look on his face. "If you prefer to be by the side of a king, why not take pleasure with Robb Stark, the King in the North?"

Suddenly all those thoughts that Margaery had been trying so hard for the past week to push down in her head came roaring back up to the surface.

When word had reached their camp that Robb Stark, Eddard Stark's eldest son, had amassed a host of 20,000 Northerners and was racing for Riverrun, Margaery had envisioned a stoic barbarian with a dangerous wolf for a mount racing for doom at the hands of the more experienced Tywin Lannister. Then they had received reports that the Starks had actually lifted the siege of Riverrun and Robb himself had captured Jaime Lannister. Then, barely two weeks before his arrival at Bitterbridge, Renly had received word that Robb Stark had been named King in the North following his father's execution.

She hadn't known what to think when Robb had sent word that he was coming to treat with Renly and form an alliance. Her lord father, Mace Tyrell, had fought on the side of House Targaryen during the rebellion. He did so more out of loyalty to the crown prince, Rhaegar Targaryen, than the Iron Throne, but she remembered how he used to tell her about Lord Eddard Stark, the quiet wolf-man who had come to relieve Storm's End's siege. _The man with a frozen heart and a head only for justice._ She tried to imagine what his son would be like. She had braced herself for the wolf-boy and his cold, barbarian demeanor. What she got was indeed a warrior, but also a boy of her age with a quiet disposition and a warm heart. Some of the other women Margaery had tea with back in Highgarden used to gossip that the Northerners were all belligerent brutes with no mind for anything but fighting.

Robb Stark had a mind for warfare, but he was also kind and gentle. His wolf, the one that had killed many Lannisters in the field and probably had a hand (or paw) in capturing the Kingslayer, was absolutely adorable. Robb had mentioned that Grey Wind liked the smell of her; that might have been the perfume she wore, the essence of lavender that Renly had gifted her. Or perhaps her natural scent was appealing to the direwolf. But more so than that, she felt happier when she was with Robb Stark than she had ever been with Renly Baratheon. He made her laugh and made her feel like all of his attention was on her whenever they spoke, rather than an attempt to divide between her and her brother. And when she had stirred, felt something for him and was certain he felt the same, he had backed off, twice, rather than dishonor her marriage. When she had found out that he was betrothed to another girl, she had felt a slight pang of jealousy stirring in her chest.

But there was no way she was going to say such things to Renly.

"No, my king. I only have desires for you," insisted Margaery. "I find pleasure only in your company. When you take King's Landing, I will bear your royal children and usher in a true Baratheon dynasty that will last a thousand years."

Renly gave her a quizzical look, but smiled nonetheless. "As you wish, my sweet. Forgive me, I was only thinking of your happiness. Will you dine with me and mine lords, or do you prefer to eat alone today?"

"I would eat with you, my king. They are my lords as much as they are yours."

When Margaery stepped into the banquet pavilion, she saw her father, Lord Mace Tyrell, the Hand of the King, breaking his fast with Renly, Lord Paxter Redwyne, Lady Arwyn Oakheart, and a few others. There was an open place to sit next to…Robb Stark. The Young Wolf was barely eating, and likewise his wolf at his feet ate little. Next to Robb, a knight who had come south with him with talking to him animatedly, but Robb seemed distracted. As Margaery quietly sat down, she caught the tail end of the conversation.

"Lord Karstark wishes to move on the Westerlands, Your Grace. He awaits your return so they may plunder Lord Tywin's strength. Lord Bolton is amassing a host to move on Harrenhal, all you must do is give him the word."

"I would wait to lead the vanguard on these attacks myself, Ser Wendel."

"Of course, Your Grace. But we must press eventually. How long before Lord Tywin attacks Riverrun to rescue the Kingslayer? This is no fight of ours, Your Grace."

Margaery was about to open her mouth when Robb stood suddenly. "I thank you for your counsel, Ser Wendel. But we are late to leave for the parley. Send word to the Blackfish that I shall return to Riverrun, alliance or no, within the fortnight."

Robb strode from the pavilion and Grey Wind, who had stirred at Margaery's arrival and licked her hand affectionately, followed. Even now, when the other lords and knights had grown slightly more accustomed to Robb's direwolf, Grey Wind running would usually send one lord or two into panic. Today was no exception, for when Grey Wind had raced after Robb, the generally stoic Lord Randyll Tarly had jumped, causing Renly, her father, and few of the other lords to laugh.

After breakfast, Renly donned his armor and readied his horse. Margaery did the same, as she rode side by side with Renly to the gates of his childhood home, Storm's End. She could smell the salt on the wind, which was blowing fiercely today. _I wonder if being home will give him cause to give me a child?_

Upon seeing the great castle properly for the first time, Margaery thought the castle had been improperly named. There was a storm brewing, not ending, at the castle gates. The reason was not hard to see, for standing at the gates were Robb Stark and Grey Wind under the grey direwolf banner of House Stark; Renly's castellan of Storm's End, Ser Cortnay Penrose; and facing them was none other than Lord Stannis Baratheon, having a chilly discussion with the King of the North. Neither of them had noticed Renly's arrival.

"I had not thought to find you in the Stormlands, Lord Stark, least of all at my own castle." The blunt, cool words of Stannis were exactly what Loras and Renly had forewarned her of. The man had no humor, no love, only a rigid sense of duty and justice. He saw the world and everyone in it in black and white, the good and the bad. Margaery thought about Robb Stark and his father; they were driven by honor, justice, and duty as well, but the wolves could find it in themselves to be forgiving and friendly at times. The Lord of Dragonstone clearly could not.

Robb had held up a hand to Ser Wendel, clearly stopping him from correcting Stannis on his title. "I had not thought to be here, Lord Stannis."

"I am sorry for your father's death. Lord Eddard was an honorable man, even though I bore him no love. A false charge of treason was an insult to him and those who truly knew him. When I take King's Landing, I shall give you justice for your father's murder. If your sisters are found within the capital, I shall send them to you." _Courtesies do not come easy to Lord Stannis._

"Forgive me, Lord Stannis, but why are you here? Dragonstone lies closer to King's Landing than it does to Storm's End?"

"I see that your father's tact was passed onto you. Very well, to take King's Landing and my rightful throne, I need the support of the storm lords. My brother Renly has them; I need them. That is why I am here. But why are you here, Lord Stark? Have you pledged the North to my brother? Have you forsaken your father's memory?" _Now he has gone too far_, thought Margaery. Indeed, Robb's face was twisting in anger, but Stannis wasn't done yet.

"Your father named me Robert's heir, convinced me that the signs I had seen in the queen's children were correct. Your father supported my claim, yet here you are, sitting beside a pretender, lecturing me on warfare strategy when you've done naught but capture the Kingslayer."

"I am the King of the North, Lord Stannis." Robb's tone was carefully checked. It seemed to have been taking all of his willpower not to chastise Stannis for his insults. "I do not bend the knee to either of you. I am simply offering a hand of friendship to all who will help me defend my home, rescue my sisters, get justice for my father."

"If you fashion yourself a king, let me offer you some advice," Stannis said flatly. "Kings have no friends, only subjects and enemies."

Renly, who had been watching quietly with curiosity, moved his horse forward. "And brothers!" he called cheerfully. Renly moved past Stannis and moved to stand next to Robb, who was still staring daggers at Stannis. Margaery moved her horse past Stannis as well, and fell into line beside him, standing across from Stannis' lady wife Selyse Florent. Loras, Brienne, and the lords who Renly had brought did the same.

"Lord Renly," Stannis greeted coolly.

"_King _Renly, actually. Can that truly be you?"

"Who else might it be?" frowned Stannis.

"When I saw your standard, I couldn't be sure. Whose banner is that?"

"Mine own," answered Stannis.

"I suppose if we used the same one the battle would be terribly confusing. Why's your stag on fire?" questioned Renly with ease.

Margaery looked up in surprise. She hadn't thought to look at Stannis' banners, but of course they would be different from Renly's. Furthermore, Renly was correct; Stannis' banners were gold, but the black stag of Baratheon was indeed enclosed in a red heart and seemed to be in flame. Suddenly, a woman garbed in red rode a single pace forward.

"The king has taken for his sigil the fiery heart of the Lord of Light."

"Ah, you must be this fire priestess we hear so much about," mused Renly. "Mmm, brother. Now I understand why you've found religion in your old age."

"Watch yourself Renly," snapped Stannis. Margaery could see out of the corner of her eyes that Robb, Loras, Brienne and the other lords were suppressing laughs.

"No, no, I'm relieved. I never really believed you were a fanatic. Charmless, rigid, a bore, yes. But not a godly man," quipped Renly. _He does this with such grace. He will be an excellent king._

The Red Woman spoke up again. "You should kneel before your brother. He is the lord's chosen, born amidst salt and smoke."

"Born amidst salt and smoke," repeated Renly. "Is he a ham?" More laughs were trying to be suppressed, this time on both sides. The man to Stannis' right covered his mouth and gave a cough, most likely to cover a laugh. _Well, it is rather funny._

"That's twice now I've warned you," harrumphed Stannis.

"You know, my lady mother would lock me and my brothers in our bedchambers if we behaved like this until we remembered that we were in fact brothers," interrupted Robb. "We all share a common enemy: the Lannisters. They thrive on our divisions."

"The Iron Throne is mine by right. All those that deny that are my foes!" Stannis said it with such emphasis, Margaery knew in that moment that he would never yield to Renly.

Stannis looked directly at Robb again. "Your lord father knew the Iron Throne was mine. His last act was to offer it to me. Did he not teach you how to kneel before your betters, Lord Stark? The North is one of my Seven Kingdoms. Kneel before me, usurper, or I shall destroy you."

Suddenly, Grey Wind, who had been quiet until this point, bared his teeth and growled very loudly at Stannis. Margaery was pleased to see that Stannis and his entourage were suddenly rather nervous, all except the Red Woman, who eyed the direwolf with interest. Robb leaned down from his horse and patted Grey Wind's head. "Easy. Lord Stannis was simply making a request."

Renly cleared his throat, drawing the attention back to him. He looked at Stannis with a mixture of amusement and pity. "The whole realm denies it, from Dorne to the Wall. Old men deny it with their death rattle and unborn children deny it from their mother's wombs." Margaery realized that Renly was at last speaking seriously. "No one wants you for their king."

"I came to treat with you on the idea that you would come to your senses and remember your place as the _younger _brother. Speak, or I shall leave," snapped Stannis.

"Very well," Renly shrugged, an ambiance of ease setting over him again. "Dismount your horse, strike your banners, bend your knee, and swear me your allegiance."

"Never."

"And why not? You served Robert, why not me?"

"Robert was my elder brother. You are the younger brother. As well as a thief and a usurper."

"The Targaryens called Robert 'Usurper'. He got over it. I'm sure I will too." Renly nudged his horse forward again and Stannis mirrored him. "You never wanted any friends brother. But a man without friends is man without power. My friend Robb Stark here has been fighting the Lannisters and defeated them time and time again. Soon, I will take the field and give the Lannisters the pleasure."

Stannis scowled. "For the sake of our mother, I will give you this one night to reconsider. Strike _your _banners, come to me before dawn, and I will grant you your old seat on the council back. I'll even name you my heir, until a son is born to me." The Lord of Dragonstone said this last bit with a sideways glance at his wife. Standing directly across from her, Margaery could tell that this was a touchy subject by the way her large ears reddened. "Otherwise I shall destroy you."

Renly looked squarely at his brother. "Look across those fields, brother. Do you see all those banners?"

"You think a few bolts of cloth will make you king?"

"No. The men holding those banners will make me king." Renly raised his hand to his mouth…and bit into a peach. "Would you like one, Stannis? From Highgarden. You'll never taste anything so sweet; I promise."

"I did not come here to taste fruit!" fumed Stannis. "Storm's End, the storm lords, the Iron Throne, they are all mine. You have no right to take them."

"Suppose you, Jon Arryn, and Eddard Stark are wrong about Joffrey. That would mean you also have no right."

"We are not wrong in that regard. I had my suspicions before I departed the capital. Jon Arryn was close to uncovering the truth, and then that damnable Lannister woman had him poisoned before he could tell Robert."

"I thought he died of old age," said Renly.

"No, he did not. Soon after, Eddard Stark comes to be the Hand after Robert passed me over, and he too is killed. But his final act was to inform me of Cersei and the Kingslayer's incestuous bastards who sit my throne," said Stannis impatiently.

Robb leaned forward. "My mother took the Imp captive and brought him to the Eyrie. She accused him of the murder of Jon Arryn, she said."

Renly waved it off. "The Imp is crafty, all Lannisters are crafty. The point is, your host will either desert you for me or be destroyed in total. You don't have a chance."

"We shall see, Renly. Come the dawn, we shall see." And with that Stannis and his host galloped away. The Red Woman alone lingered. "Look to your sins, Lord Renly. For the night is dark and full of terrors." Then she too followed Stannis.

"Would you believe I loved him once," growled Renly, dropping his smile as he watched Stannis gallop away. Then he turned to the castellan, Ser Cortnay Penrose. "I trust you to keep the castle and the boy, ser."

"Don't worry, Your Grace. Stannis will never have either. I will die before I hand him over to that woman." Ser Cortnay whirled about and headed inside the gates, while Renly, Robb, Margaery, and the rest of their retinue galloped back to their camp.

Loras rode alongside Renly, so Margaery found herself riding next to Robb. The Young Wolf looked weary, but his bright blue eyes were alert as ever. "Who's the boy Renly's guarding inside Storm's End?" he asked.

"Edric Storm. One of Robert's bastards with a Florent girl he bedded the night of Stannis and Selyse' wedding," replied Margaery softly.

"Why is Renly so insistent on guarding him from Stannis?" whispered Robb, just as softly.

Margaery glanced back at the retreating parley. "The Red Woman. It's rumored she makes sacrifices, especially ones with royal blood." There weren't many things that scared Margaery, but the Red Woman was definitely one of them.

Robb seemed to understand and said no more. Margaery thought back to the conversation she had overheard him having with Ser Wendel at breakfast. She found herself wishing that he did not have to go, but it was selfish. He had come for an alliance, no more than that. He had his own kingdom to fight for, his own betrothed to eventually marry. But still, talking with Robb was far more enjoyable than the sycophants and flatterers that often swarmed her, hoping to get on the good side of her and her husband.

Margaery pushed the thoughts out of her head and instead thought about the parley and Stannis' words. She had known, of course, that Stannis, Jon Arryn, and Eddard Stark believed that Joffrey and his siblings were bastards born of incest between Cersei and Jaime Lannister. When Stannis' letter had arrived, Renly had had a good laugh and showed it to his lords present. She could definitely see where the idea might come from. According to Renly, Edric Storm, Robert's bastard, was a boy with jet-black hair, bright blue eyes, and a chiseled jaw, just as Robert, Stannis, and Renly had. Joffrey was known to have golden hair and emerald eyes, like his mother, his uncle, and his grandfather. So did his siblings. _It makes sense if you know what to look for_, she thought.

When they returned to the camp, the sun was fast setting. It seemed impossible that the parley had lasted longer than twenty minutes, but it had been hours. Renly summoned all his lords, his Kingsguard, and Robb to his tent. They all emerged an hour later, chattering amiably and boasting of how Stannis would fall by each of their hands.

Only Robb looked rather unhappy as he exited. Margaery knew why. He had come to forge an alliance to help his own people, not fight a war between the Baratheon brothers. She walked up to him just as Ser Wendel hurried away.

"Your Grace, you look troubled."

It was Robb who had spoken first, and Margaery was surprised that he, who was clearly tired and troubled, was asking about her.

"I am fine, Your Grace. I was just thinking about how thankful I will be tomorrow when this battle is over, and we can once again turn our attention to the capital. But why are you so unhappy?"

"Your husband does not give me leave to return to Riverrun. He wishes me to join him in the battle. But my bannermen are awaiting me, they will not be patient much longer. Tywin Lannister is still at Harrenhal, I must draw him into the west, I must rescue my sisters, I must…" Robb sagged. "Forgive me, I pray I have not kept you from your duties. I think I might get some sleep. He will have another council in a few hours, no doubt planning to strike before the dawn."

Margaery took his arm. "Sleep would do you much good. Might I walk you?" And without waiting for a response she started walking with him back to his tent. By then night had fallen, and the fires were the only source of light. But the camp still buzzed with activity.

"The battle will not be a long one. Renly would have our forces see Stark and Baratheon fighting together as one. Besides, there is no beast fiercer than Grey Wind. I wouldn't be surprised if he kills Stannis himself."

Robb smiled at her, but it quickly faded, and he returned to his thoughts. Margaery could see the turmoil that was raging within, the pressure and responsibilities that were aging the Young Wolf faster and faster until he would look well beyond his years. _So young to be this old. He's my age, and yet he seems so much older. _She wondered if she would look like that once she officially became queen.

They arrived at Robb's tent and Margaery escorted him inside. There were no candles lit, so the tent was pitch black. The only source of light were the eyes of Grey Wind, who had stirred at his master's arrival. Margaery guided him over to the bed, and they sat down. The tired Young Wolf still wore his armor. _Perhaps that is just as well. Soon battle will come, no sense in taking it off just to put back on in a few hours. _

In the dark, Robb's features were difficult to make out, but Margaery could tell that he had turned to her when he spoke. "Thank you, my lady. Your gratitude is appreciated, and I thank you for helping me. I wish I could return the favor."

Margaery shook her head. "Your thanks are not necessary. You may return the favor by surviving the battle that approaches on the morrow and defeating the Lannisters."

"I can promise that, my lady."

"I thought I told you to call me Margaery, Your Grace?"

"And I told you to call me Robb, did I not, Your Grace?" Both of them laughed at that, and then fell silent.

The entity in her chest stirred again, though this time it roared. Without thinking, Margaery leaned forward, and to her pleasant surprise, Robb had done the same. Their lips met in a warm, tender kiss. For just a moment, everything was right with the world. Tywin Lannister, Stannis Baratheon, Cersei, and Joffrey all seemed like insignificant specks in the world. They were all that mattered.

Then, just as suddenly as it happened, both Robb and Margaery broke away. Without a word to each other, Robb fell back on the featherbed, giving a very convincing snore. Margaery hurried from his tent, slowing her pace to a steady walk as she strolled back to her pavilion.

But Margaery did not realize that she had been observed the entire time by the one man she ought not to have been so careless around. Had Margaery turned around during her walk back, she would have seen the dark eyes of Littlefinger boring into her.

* * *

**Disclaimer: No, I am not George R.R. Martin. If I were, I might be trying to finish my books in such a way that doesn't make everyone hate it.**

**Favorite, follow, and review and all that. Cheers.**


	4. Chapter 4: Margaery

_Chapter Four: Margaery_

Sleep was often said to be a blessing, a way to rest from the day's events and prepare for the events of tomorrow. For Margaery, sleep was an elusive desire that never came that night.

The young queen paced in her tent over and over again, thinking about what had just happened. _I kissed Robb Stark. I kissed the King in the North. I kissed a man who is not my husband. _There was no hope of sleep anyway; the camp was buzzing with activity as soldiers hurried around with preparations for the upcoming battle.

Margaery wished that she could speak with Renly alone, or even better, Loras. He would know what to do, he could advise her. _No, there's nothing to advise. It was a mistake. A _good _mistake, but still a mistake. It will not happen again. _But still Margaery could not forget the soft, warm embrace of the Young Wolf's lips on hers, the warm feeling that had spread throughout her entire body when she had given into her desire.

She had to speak to someone, anyone, for guidance. Her grandmother was in Highgarden, too far away at the moment. No, she needed someone who she could speak freely to, but at the same time trust that they would not repeat her words. For this, she had decided to speak with Brienne of Tarth. The warrior the other soldiers nicknamed 'Beauty' would be ideal. Her place as a Kingsguard was by the king, but Renly would be in war council right now. And Margaery trusted her not to speak if she commanded it.

Margaery found the woman standing ever dutiful outside Renly's war tent. She looked stoic and at the same time prideful in her blue armor. Brienne snapped to attention as soon as Margaery approached.

"Your Grace," she said, bowing low.

"Lady Brienne. Forgive me for calling upon you at this hour."

"No need to apologize, Your Grace. The entire camp is awake, preparing to vanquish the false king Stannis. The king is in war council, but I can alert him to your presence if you wish."

"Actually, my lady, I was hoping to speak to you. Privately, if you would be so kind."

Brienne's brow furrowed. "Is everything alright, Your Grace?"

"Everything is fine with the king. It's more of a personal matter that I do not wish to have overheard or repeated."

Brienne glanced inside the tent. When she moved the flap, Margaery could see Renly standing in the middle of the other lords, arguing about when to attack Stannis.

"Attack now, before dawn breaks. We have the numbers. Take Stannis now or else we shall be charging into the light of the rising sun," the commanding voice of Lord Randyll Tarly was saying.

"Stannis will fall either way, I agree we must attack now. Sound the advance, Your Grace," came the aged voice of Lord Mathis Rowan.

Brienne closed the flap. "Pray, make it quick, Your Grace. The king has given me the honor of helping to armor him before battle. He shall call for me any moment now." She called over another one of Renly's Kingsguard, Ser Guyard the Green. Ser Guyard took Brienne's post as Margaery led Brienne into an empty tent across the path from the war tent.

"Be quiet about it, Your Grace, if this is not meant for wandering ears. You must be careful with Lord Baelish lurking in the camp."

_Littlefinger_. Margaery had almost forgotten that weasel was here. He was the last person in the Seven Kingdoms she would want to hear this.

"I shall be prompt. Lady Brienne, I wished to speak with you of the King in the North, Robb Stark."

Brienne looked over at the war tent. "Robb Stark is in His Grace's war tent, along with the other lords preparing for battle. Though I fear he is preoccupied at the moment. Why, did you wish to speak with him?"

"No, no. It's something else." _Hurry, do it now. She will have to take her leave in a moment._

Brienne's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Your Grace, did Robb Stark _hurt_ you in some way? Was he uncouth or forceful?"

"No, gods be good, Lady Brienne. Robb Stark has been nothing but a perfect gentleman towards me. I called you in here for a different reason concerning him." _Do it now._

"Your Grace, you may tell me anything, and I swear by the Seven that I shall not betray your confidence, even to the king if you do not wish it," said Brienne.

Just as Margaery was steeling her resolve, there was a thundering of footsteps outside the tent. Brienne moved the flap so they could see. The lords were departing the tent to inform their factions of the battle strategy. Ser Guyard the Green was waving Brienne over. "I apologize, Your Grace. The king needs me. Once the battle is over, I would give you my full attention, this I swear to you."

Margaery smiled. "Go on, Lady Brienne. I dare not keep you from the king. He calls for you, as is his right." Brienne bowed low and hurried into Renly's war tent. Margaery glanced around; Robb was not part of the procession of lords that had just exited Renly's tent. She needed to speak with him. Even though she was not supposed to be in the war tent, Margaery ducked inside and stood beside Loras, who was standing at the entrance. Robb and Renly were seated across from each other, Renly half-armored with Brienne at his side.

"You swear it?" asked Renly.

"By the old gods and the new. I have no interest in the Iron Throne, Your Grace," replied Robb.

Renly looked at him for a second. "Then I see no reason for hostilities between us. You may go on calling yourself King in the North, just as the Martells call themselves prince. The Riverlands are once again completely subject to the Iron Throne. But the North is still tied to the Iron Throne. Perhaps a suzerain kingdom would best fit the North."

"A suzerain kingdom?" Margaery could tell the term confused Robb.

"You govern the North as its king, but any laws passed by the Iron Throne you are still subject to," explained Renly. "Any internal affairs concerning the North are yours to decide, but foreign relations concerning the North such as trade, currency, alliances with the other kingdoms are controlled by the Iron Throne, just like the others."

"So, I would be king in name only," said Robb.

Renly chuckled and leaned back in his seat. "One thing I learned from my years on Robert's Small Council is that it takes more than military instincts to truly be a king. Robert was the best battle commander of his time, defeating the Targaryens and then suppressing the Greyjoys. But he had no interest or aptitude for actually governing the realm. I think that matters such as gold or alliances should be handled by the Iron Throne, handled by experts in such craft. But as for the title and the governing internally of the North, that is all yours." Renly spoke with such skill; Margaery honestly believed his words he had spoke to her when they had first set out from Highgarden with the power of House Tyrell behind them. _The crown will suit me, far better than it ever suited Robert and far greater than it would ever suit Stannis. _

Renly stood and motioned to Brienne to armor him. "Of course, this is provided you swear me an oath of fealty."

"The wording of the oath?" asked Robb.

"The same one your father swore to my brother eighteen years ago," Renly said shortly. Margaery could tell that Renly was getting edgy, probably due to the upcoming battle. But Renly spoke again, this time more calmly. "Robb, their friendship held the kingdoms together."

"And in return for the oath, you will name me King in the North, correct?" summarized Robb.

"Yes, indeed. I shall destroy my brother's army once we take our leave from this meeting. I am certain that you and your direwolf's legendary combat experience will prove most useful in this coming battle. Stark and Baratheon shall fight their common enemy together, as they have done many times before. Once Stannis is defeated, I shall send you to Riverrun to consolidate your host and attack Harrenhal from the North with all the power of Winterfell and Riverrun behind you. I shall march on Harrenhal from the south with all the power of Storm's End and Highgarden behind me. By that time, I expect Sunspear will have joined us, seeing as we will have defeated Tywin Lannister. So too should the Eyrie, Lady Arryn will want revenge on the Lannisters. Six Great Houses against Casterly Rock and King's Landing? They will have nowhere to run."

"Sunspear…House Martell, they have not yet come to pledge themselves to you?" pondered Robb. "My father mentioned that Dorne has great hatred for the Lannisters."

"The Imp is clever, he has sent Joffrey's younger sister to be betrothed to Prince Doran's youngest son, Trystane," sighed Renly. "No doubt that if the Martells did not loathe the Lannisters, they would have expected support, but a promise of not taking up arms is a start. But once Tywin is dead or captured, they will join us, the winning side." _That was clever of the Imp_, thought Margaery. _Neutralizing a threat before it has a chance to mobilize. _

"Your Grace, I have sent word to Lord Balon Greyjoy, offering him a chance to raid the Westerlands without retribution if he allies me with ships. If he should join us with the Iron Fleet, our numbers will be even greater," Robb announced.

Renly didn't look happy. "If it works, then so much the better for us. I have the Redwyne fleet ready to lay siege to King's Landing and ensure the Lannisters cannot escape. But the Greyjoys…I would not trust Balon Greyjoy if I were you, my friend."

"My mother said the same before I came here. But I had need of his ships, and I returned his son and heir Theon to him as a gesture of goodwill."

"As I said, if it works, then I applaud you. Brienne, make sure that my chainmail is proper before you start on the upper armor."

Robb stood up. "Perhaps you can force Stannis to submit, Your Grace. If he wants Storm's End, let him take it whilst you march on Harrenhal. He won't have the men to hold it once you are king, with at least four Great Houses behind you."

Renly laughed. "I envy you, King Robb. You don't have the pain of dealing with annoying elder brothers, who think that just because they were born before you that they are entitled to everything. The best suited should take the crown, not the eldest. Besides, Stannis will never yield or negotiate. You heard him out there, I'd have better luck debating the wind." Renly moved to observe himself in the mirror.

Speaking of the wind, a sudden gust blew into the tent. The torches and candles that lit the war pavilion fluttered. Margaery and Loras turned to see who had entered the war tent. But it was not a _who_, but a _what_.

A dark shadow swept into the tent, and Robb and Brienne both saw it. The shadow glided past Robb and Brienne and stopped behind Renly. "Cold," murmured Renly. Suddenly there was a spurt of blood gushing from Renly's chest, right where his heart was. Protruding from the wound was the shadow's hand, made of smoke in the shape of a blade that was not there. Margaery screamed in horror, but Loras and Brienne screamed louder. Loras pushed past all of them and cradled Renly as he fell.

The shadow turned towards Robb and advanced. Robb was still frozen as if he could not quite comprehend what was happening, but at last he tried to back away. The Young Wolf looked bewildered as he fell to the ground, tripping over his own legs as he tried to get away from the kingslaying shadow. "No!" screamed Margaery. "Robb!"

Brienne was faster. She had grabbed a torch from the wall and flung it in desperation at the shadow just before its' smoky dagger stabbed Robb. The torch collided with the shadow, which recoiled and exploded without a sound.

Loras was crying, still holding Renly's body, pleading for him to awaken. But Margaery knew that he would never move again. Suddenly, Ser Guyard burst in, accompanied by two more of Renly's Kingsguard, Ser Emmon Cuy and Ser Robar Royce. Ser Wendel Manderly also was with them. Their eyes fell on the scene, with Brienne covered in Renly's blood and standing over Robb.

"You! You murdered the king! You'll pay for the king's life with your own!" roared Ser Emmon. Both he and Ser Guyard raced forward.

"Loras, do something, say something! You know it wasn't her! _Loras!_" But Margaery's passionate yells fell on deaf words. Loras still cradled his lover's body, as three of his Sworn Brothers and Sister clashed above him. Brienne had drawn Renly's sword and caught Ser Emmon's axe deftly faster than Margaery would have believed. She slammed the hilt of the sword into his chest and slit his throat before he fell. Ser Guyard thrusted his longsword, despite the close quarters combat. It was a mistake, and Brienne capitalized. She ducked a mighty swing and stabbed the Green Knight in his chest.

"No!" shouted Ser Robar. He had moved over to protect Margaery. He drew his sword, but Robb stood up.

"It was not her, Ser Robar, hear my words and know them to be true. It was some dark magic, a shadow I tell you. A shadow with…"

"The face of Stannis Baratheon," cried Loras, speaking at last. "It was Stannis, I know it."

Ser Robar slightly lowered his sword. "Stannis? How could it be Stannis?"

Robb drew his own sword. "Hear my words as a Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, the King of the North. I would never give you falsities. It was Stannis, not Brienne. The girl loved Renly; she would never raise a sword against him. Take your vengeance on the man who deserves it!"

Ser Robar hesitated, then lowered his sword. "Go. The word of the king's murder will spread, Lady Brienne. You cannot stay here, too many will suspect you. You will be executed. I will buy you some time, but not much. Go!" And the Red Knight fled, shouting to everyone who could hear.

Ser Wendel Manderly moved over to Robb. "Your Grace, we must go. Any hope of an alliance died with Renly Baratheon. We must go too, Your Grace, else we fall in Stannis' hands!"

"He's right, Your Grace," gasped Margaery. The shock was slowly wearing off, but she still could not bring herself to look upon Renly's face. "Stannis will surely come to claim his victory; if you are here, he will put you in irons to force the North and the Riverlands to follow him. You must go! Take Brienne with you and ride hard for the safety of Riverrun!"

For a moment, Robb Stark and Margaery Tyrell looked at each other, the blue eyes staring longingly into the brown. Margaery felt like wishing him well on his way home or in the war itself but could not find her voice. Instead, nothing was said as Brienne dashed about, gathering her sword and helm. The moment passed, the King in the North gave a shaky nod, and swept from the tent with Brienne and Ser Wendel in his wake.

Margaery burst outside, where Robb, Brienne, and Ser Wendel had mounted their horses. Around them, Ser Robar was rousing the camp and spreading the word to the Reachmen of the truth of Renly's murder. Margaery felt dread as she looked over at the pavilions of the Storm lords, who knew only that Renly was dead and not the manner of death.

"Grey Wind! To me!" came Robb's battle cry. Faster than Margaery would have believed, the direwolf came bounding out of nowhere. The Young Wolf looked over at her one final time and then yelled. The three riders rode out of the camp heading west. In the break of day, Margaery could just see the top of the nearest hill. It seemed impossible that Robb could have ridden that distance in such a short amount of time, but there was no mistaking the profile of the direwolf that raced alongside him. His two companions' mounts seemed to be struggling to keep up, but Robb Stark and his allies reached the top of the hill and disappeared over the crest.

Margaery did not remember much about the rest of the dawn. She was ushered from tent to tent by her brother and the surviving members of the Kingsguard. When the sun finally shone, the news that Renly was dead was known to every soldier in the camp. The divisive issue was who had killed him. Some of the Storm lords were convinced that Renly had been slain by Robb when Renly refused to allow Northern independence. Others believed Brienne of Tarth killed Renly in Stannis' name.

The Reachmen had heard the truth; Ser Robar had managed to spread the facts fast. As a result, the Reach lords were quickly moving to leave. Lord Tarly, Lady Oakheart, Lord Rowan…they had all already taken their men and were racing for the Reach, beyond the grasp of the kinslaying Stannis. Lord Alester Florent, the Lord of Brightwater Keep and the uncle of Selyse Baratheon, Stannis' wife, was one of the few Reach lords to remain. Margaery's own father Mace was herding his own men west and remained only so for Loras and Margaery.

Renly's body lay in state in his tent, and Loras remained by his side well after the other Reachmen had departed. Eventually, Margaery had to press the issue.

"We need to go home. Loras." But Margaery's words once again fell on deaf ears as the tent flap opened.

"My lord, my lady," came the shifty voice of Petyr Baelish. The Master of Coin had remained behind in the wake of the exodus. Margaery was surprised no one thought to blame him for the murder, but Littlefinger looked at ease as he strolled into the tent.

"Get out," commanded Loras, not taking his eyes off Renly's corpse.

"Stannis will be here in an hour," announced Littlefinger. "When he arrives, Renly's bannermen will flock to him. Your former companions will fight for the privilege of selling you to their new king."

At that, Loras stood. He drew his sword at those words and tore his eyes away from Renly to stare down Littlefinger. "And you want that privilege for yourself," accused the Knight of Flowers.

"You will note that I am standing here talking to you, not Stannis," replied Littlefinger drily.

"There's no time for this," pleaded Margaery, taking his arm. She knew that Stannis Baratheon was not a man to be taken lightly. The previous night's events had enforced that notion more strongly than ever. They needed to go. _I will not bear it if that man kills you too, sweet brother. Please come with me and Father_.

But the enraged Loras shook her off. "Ride back to Highgarden, sister. I am not running from Stannis!"

Margaery tried again. "Stannis murdered Renly, him and that Red Woman. But the storm lords will join him. He is the last Baratheon; they are bound to join him without Renly. You cannot fight them all."

"Who gained the most from our king's death?" growled Loras.

"Stannis," replied Littlefinger.

"I saw him, I saw his shadow with my own eyes, as did you. Those storm lords will sing lies to Stannis to get on his good side, but he will not fool me! I will put a sword through his righteous face!"

Loras once again kneeled at Renly's side, the anger once again giving way to grief. "He would have been a good king. A _true _king." Margaery could see the tears once again starting to form in his eyes.

"Tell me, Ser Loras," said Littlefinger. "What do you desire most in this world?"

"Revenge." The answer came so readily that Margaery knew that Littlefinger had won.

"I have always found that to be the purest of motivations. But you won't have a chance to put your sword through Stannis. Not today. You'll be cut to pieces before he sets foot on solid ground. If it is justice that you want…be smart about it." _He is playing my grieving brother like a musical instrument, and I cannot stop him._

"You can't avenge him from the grave," noted Margaery. No matter what she said, it would play into Littlefinger's hands. At the moment, he held all the power. "Bring the horses. Please." Margaery stroked his hair, trying to convey her empathy for her beloved brother. At last, Loras stood, took one last lingering look at his lover's corpse and hurried out of the tent, not looking at Littlefinger.

Margaery herself gazed at Renly, grieving for the king, not the husband he was. She found herself thinking of Robb again. _If you prefer to be by the side of a king, why not take pleasure with Robb Stark, the King in the North?_ Renly had suggested it himself, thinking of her happiness rather than his in that moment. Good kings thought of others' happiness as well as their own.

And Renly's thought was not a bad one. Margaery had definitely felt something for him. But by now the King in the North was well on his way back to Riverrun. The odds were not great that they would meet again.

But at the moment, she had to play the part of grieving widow for Renly. Thinking of another would cast suspicion on her. "He was very handsome," she remarked to Littlefinger, who had remained in the tent.

"He was, Your Grace."

"_Your Grace._ Calling yourself king does not make you one, and if Renly wasn't a king, I wasn't a queen." Margaery was well aware of Littlefinger's panache for turning weaknesses against someone, but at the moment, she felt like talking to someone, even someone with a reputation as despicable as Littlefinger.

"Do you want to be a queen?" asked Littlefinger softly.

"No. I want to be _the _queen," answered Margaery. _I want to be the queen. I want to have the power to save those who deserve mercy and justice. A queen does not have that, only _the _queen does._

She looked back at Littlefinger, who maintained a passive face. _Grandmother always says that to confuse an enemy, make them think you are agreeing with them._ Margaery allowed the tiniest of smiles to curve her lips. It worked, as Littlefinger nodded.

"You want to be the queen, and your brother wants revenge. I can give you that. Stannis Baratheon has stolen your future from you. He will sail to take the Iron Throne. I can help you achieve your dream and help your brother quell his bloodlust. To stop a man willing to resort to such tactics as blood magic and kinslaying like Stannis Baratheon, you must fight back head on. He must…_Hear You Roar._"

Margaery took a final glance at Renly's corpse. She was suddenly glad that Robb was not here; she couldn't bear to look at his face with what her family was about to do, what she was about to do. She understood Littlefinger's plan all too well. The Tyrells would get vengeance upon Stannis for robbing them of Renly, who made her queen. She herself would be queen. But the price was very, very high.

And what was worse, Margaery had no say in the matter. Her fate was sealed, and if she ever came across Robb Stark again, she would have to stand by while her family tried to kill him.

"My father will want to speak with you and learn more about this, Lord Baelish," smiled Margaery, playing the part she was expected to. As they departed, Margaery tried to internally bury any feelings she may have had for the Young Wolf deep down. It was a desire she could never fulfill, even if she wanted to.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Fav, Follow, and Review! Also, as always, I don't own these characters.**


	5. Chapter 5: Catelyn

_Chapter Five: Catelyn_

There weren't many times that Catelyn Stark thought about the disadvantages of having five children, but the long days of this war was one.

She disliked the way that her people could not get justice on Jaime Lannister despite his being their prisoner. Her daughters were the queen's captives in King's Landing. Cersei Lannister had her in a stalemate; she couldn't hurt her daughters lest anything happen to her brother. Or rather, her lover.

Sweet Sansa, so taken with the prince when he had visited Winterfell. And her love was repaid with an imprisonment by the queen. Wild Arya, who never excelled at a lady's duties like sewing. There hadn't been any word of Arya since Ned's death. _Oh, Ned. Why did you have to leave me? Why couldn't you just say no to Robert?_

Those stresses had been compounded when her eldest son went to treat with Renly Baratheon. On the surface, there was no issue. Renly was friendly with Ned, so he wouldn't have any cause to harm Robb. _Except for the fact that Robb was trying to usurp the northern half of the kingdom he claimed._ While Robb had been away, the lords of the North and the Riverlands had started to grow weary.

Their army had invaded Oxcross, a village a short ride from Lannisport. Robb had been there to give the orders, his direwolf had even found a way to get there without crossing Golden Tooth. Robb had then departed, and the battle had seen Ser Stafford Lannister slain, along with the unprepared host he had been raising for Tywin Lannister. Those who had survived would claim that Robb fell on them with a pack of wolves, when in actuality, he hadn't been there. _A tale to spread Robb's legend_.

Lord Karstark had insisted that they press on. If they remained stationary, Lord Tywin would be bold enough to encircle them and besiege the whole army there. So they marched. And they won. Catelyn rejoiced with the others when news of victory came. Until Lord Roose Bolton had delivered a message from Winterfell.

And her heart nearly stopped.

That turncloak Theon Greyjoy, the second boy her husband brought home from a war, had allied with his father to invade the North whilst the fighting men were away in the south. He had captured Winterfell and held her sons, crippled Bran and little Rickon hostage. Catelyn had cursed the boy a thousand times over since reading that message, praying for a slow and painful death for him.

To make matters worse, Theon's uncle, the brutish Victarion Greyjoy, had captured Moat Cailin, barring the armies of the North from returning to defend their homes from the opportunistic ironborn.

These thoughts turned over in Catelyn's head as she prayed in the sept at Riverrun. There weren't many here now. Most of the men were in the Westerlands, trying to pillage the Lannisters' homeland. But the garrison at Riverrun remained, led by her battle-harden uncle, Ser Brynden "The Blackfish" Tully. It was he who had insisted that she pray, knowing of her inner turmoil. _The boys or the girls, which should we save first? _The Blackfish had found her sitting in her favorite seat looking out over the Red Fork.

"My dear, you look the very definition of inner turmoil." As children, Catelyn and her siblings Lysa and Edmure came to their uncle the Blackfish when their father, Lord Hoster Tully, was too busy to deal with them. The Blackfish was extremely adept at reading their faces and knowing what troubled them.

"Bran and Rickon are captives in Winterfell. Sansa and Arya are captives in King's Landing. I have five children and only one of them is free," murmured Catelyn.

"Perhaps you should go to the sept and pray. Clear your head. Or if you feel it is right, perhaps the godswood will serve you better," the Blackfish said soothingly. "But don't stay here and become lost in your thoughts. Robb is due to return soon; you will need to be strong for him."

So, Catelyn ventured into the sept and prayed for the safe return of her children, the end of the war, their home at Winterfell, and the health of her father which was deteriorating every day. It was there she was when her brother came looking for her, announcing that Robb was back.

Catelyn had high hopes for Robb's diplomatic journey to Bitterbridge and then Storm's End. Those hopes were dashed with one look on Robb's face.

"Mother!" Robb was in the Great Hall at Riverrun, along with the Greatjon, Maege Mormont, Ser Wendel, her brother Edmure, the Blackfish, and a few other river lords. There was also a tall, homely yet fierce looking woman dressed in blue armor who Catelyn did not know. When Robb spotted her entering the hall, he moved over and embraced her.

"My son. You've returned." Catelyn held his face in her hands and immediately noticed that he was unhappy. _Something has happened to him. I can tell he is distressed._

"I take it Renly Baratheon was not receptive to an alliance with you?"

Robb shook his head. "We almost had one. But then Stannis ruined all with a single evil stroke."

Catelyn was confused. "What did Stannis do?"

The Blackfish stepped forward. "Renly Baratheon is dead. Robb was in the tent when he died. He was slain by a shadow with Stannis' face. Blood magic."

Catelyn wordlessly stared at her uncle, hoping that he was joking. But they had heard that Stannis Baratheon had taken up with a Red Priestess, one of the followers of the Lord of Light. The followers disparaged other religions such as the Old Gods of the Forest, which the Northerners practiced almost exclusively, and the Faith of the Seven, her own religion. The Red Priests could perform magic, like Thoros of Myr, the Red Priest who had a sword that he could set ablaze at will.

"The Others take that man. Kinslaying is a monstrous crime, he will gain nothing from it," breathed Catelyn.

Catelyn listened as Robb relayed the events of the Baratheon brothers' parley, how Stannis had criticized him for not pledging the North and the Riverlands to his cause, how Renly had been murdered by Stannis' shadow and how it tried to kill him, and how they had ridden to safety, catching up with the Greatjon and Lady Mormont, who had departed from the camp first.

Robb also mentioned Petyr Baelish, who had delivered her beloved Ned's remains as a gesture of goodwill from Tyrion Lannister. She hadn't liked the Imp; hell, she had thrown him into one of the Eyrie's infamous sky cells. But she appreciated the fact that he was doing his level best to at least try and repair the fracture between their houses.

"Brienne saved me, I would not be standing here right now if it weren't for her excellent sword arm," finished Robb.

"Brienne of Tarth, I owe you my heartfelt thanks. You saved my eldest son's life. I can never repay you for what you have done for my family," gushed Catelyn. She hadn't even heard of the warrior maid of Tarth until a few minutes ago, and already she felt like family.

The warrior bowed. "Your son saved me. I owe him my life more than he owes me his." Robb turned to her. "Lady Brienne, I would be honored if you would be my own lady mother's shield. Protect her from harm as you would have done honorably with King Renly."

Catelyn hesitated. _He gives me a sworn shield. She is obviously a proven warrior…but why?_ Brienne of Tarth had no such hesitations. She knelt before Catelyn and placed her sword at her feet. "I am yours, my lady. I will shield your back and give my life for yours, if it comes to that. I swear it by the old gods and the new." Catelyn grasped Brienne's glove. "I vow that you shall always have a place at my home and at my table, and that I shall ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new." Brienne nodded, stood, and sheathed her sword.

Edmure cleared his throat. "Your Grace, while you were gone, Lord Karstark won a significant victory at the Battle of Oxcross. Ser Stafford Lannister's host was smashed to pieces. The next attack should be at Ashemark."

The Greatjon roared his approval. "Take away Tywin Lannister's strength: all that fucking gold he buys allies, sellswords, and promises with. Raid the gold mines, we won't need Renly Baratheon's men, we can buy our own and take down those yellow-haired cunts." He looked at Catelyn and fashioned a sheepish look on his face. "Begging your pardons, my lady. I shouldn't speak that way in front of a lady."

"Where's my apology?" demanded Maege Mormont.

"You'll get it when you curb your own vile tongue, She-Bear!" laughed the Greatjon.

Catelyn wasn't really listening. She was watching Robb carefully. No doubt Edmure or her uncle had told Robb what Theon Greyjoy and the ironborn had done to Moat Cailin and Winterfell. _Perhaps that is the reason for…whatever it is that seems to trouble him. Something is off._

Lord Jason Mallister stepped forward. "Your Grace, something else you should be made aware of. As you instructed, we moved the Kingslayer from camp to camp as we advanced to Oxcross to keep the Lannisters from learning his whereabouts. He tried to escape and killed Lord Karstark's other son Torrhen in the process. Lord Karstark is demanding the Kingslayer's head and is losing patience. We moved the Kingslayer back to Riverrun three nights past."

Robb grimaced. "The queen still has my sisters. Until they are rescued, the Kingslayer is not to be harmed. If Lord Karstark takes issue with that, he is more than welcome to demand to my face."

Jason nodded. "As you command, Your Grace."

"As for the ironborn, I must go north at once." _There it is. My sons, we are coming._

"There's still a war to win, Your Grace," came the soft voice of Roose Bolton. Catelyn jumped; she hadn't even noticed he was there.

"How can I call myself king if I can't hold my own castle? How can I ask men to follow me…?"

"You _are_ a king. And that means you don't have to everything yourself," said Roose.

"I told you, never trust a Greyjoy!" moaned Catelyn. The pain that her sons were surely enduring right now seemed to traverse time and space and hit her all over. "Let me go and talk to Theon."

"There will be no talk. He will die for this," growled Robb.

"Theon holds the castle with a skeleton crew," said Roose Bolton. "Let me send word to my bastard at the Dreadfort. He can raise a few hundred men and retake Winterfell before the new moon." When Robb still looked unsure of not liberating his own home himself, Roose pressed on. "We have the Lannisters on the run. If you march all the way back north now, you'll lose what you gained. Victarion Greyjoy holds Moat Cailin; the garrison here at Riverrun is not enough to take it. We would have to withdraw our entire force to take Moat Cailin and march back north to recapture Winterfell. By that time, Tywin Lannister will solidify his position, and we will lose for sure."

Roose looked Robb squarely in the eyes with a cruel look that gave Catelyn a shiver. "My boy would be honored to bring you Prince Theon's head."

At last, Robb conceded. "Tell your son Bran and Rickon's safety is paramount. And Theon…I want him brought to me alive. I want to look him in the eye and ask him why. And then I'll take his head myself."

Roose Bolton bowed and left the hall. The Blackfish breathed a sigh. _Of relief or pity?_ "Your Grace, you must be tired. Perhaps you should rest tonight, and we can discuss our next steps in the morrow."

Robb nodded. "Take your leave, my lords and ladies. Get some rest. We'll reconvene on the morrow." The hall soon emptied, leaving Catelyn alone with the Blackfish and Brienne.

"Your king gave you an order, Cat. Get some rest." The Blackfish's voice was gentle but firm.

"Uncle, is there something off with Robb? I thought at first it was the loss of the alliance with Renly, then perhaps Theon's betrayal, but I don't know?"

Her uncle sighed and patted her back. "With only one child on hand at the moment, I'm sure you want to do all you can for Robb. To ease his pain. But what afflicts him…I think I have an idea. It's an affliction that's ailed many men. There's no cure for it. I've seen many a man succumb to that ailment. Dynasties have fallen due to it."

Catelyn held her breath. "It is serious, is it not? Should Maester Vyman take a look at him?"

The Blackfish smiled and shook his head. Instantly Catelyn felt better. _If he's smiling, surely it cannot be that serious. _"Your worries should be spent on the Lannisters or perhaps your old father. Robb will have to beat his _ailment_ on his own." The Blackfish yawned. "Now go to bed Cat." He kissed her forehead and started out of the hall.

"Wait, uncle. You didn't tell me what's wrong with Robb!"

Without looking back, the Blackfish replied, "Isn't it obvious? He met a girl."

And still chuckling and shaking his head, the Blackfish exited the hall, leaving Catelyn alone.

But Catelyn Stark did not go to bed. Her thoughts, as any mother's would upon hearing such news, began to churn even more uncomfortably. Her first thought was _No, you are too young to be thinking of such things._ But Robb was not a little boy, no matter how much she wished it. He was the King in the North. The second thought was _You are promised to another. One of Walder Frey's daughters. You mustn't forget that, my son. He won't._ But the fact that Robb seemed so…different, a little melancholic behind the eyes gave Catelyn a horrible sense of relief. _You didn't do anything, you didn't break your vow, you kept your word as a Stark._ But she felt horrible for being relieved at her son's unhappiness. His heart hurt because he was not with the one he wanted to be with. Catelyn could not truly relate, but who in this castle would know about forbidden feelings?

The answer came so simply that Catelyn had already started towards the dungeons before she was consciously aware of it. Brienne held a torch as they descended into darkness. Soldiers stood everywhere, bowing as Catelyn passed. The guards pointed when Catelyn asked to speak with him.

"He's in the last cell on the left, my lady. As you have requested, we shall allow you to speak with him alone."

"Thank you."

As they walked, Catelyn spoke to her new sworn shield that had already saved her son's life. "I shall not remain at Riverrun long. As soon as Lord Bolton's bastard has recaptured Winterfell, I must go there at once. My two youngest ones need their mother."

"I never knew my mother," remarked Brienne.

"I am sorry. My own mother died on the birthing bed," murmured Catelyn. "When I was very young."

"Once you are safely back in Winterfell, will you give me leave to go, my lady?"

"You mean to kill Stannis," realized Catelyn. She remembered what Robb said about the other factions of Renly's camp either fleeing or joining Stannis. _The girl must have truly loved Renly to wish to avenge him to this extent. _"Stannis has a great army around him. From what I have heard, Renly's death was no fault of yours. You served him bravely."

"You know, I only held him once. As he was dying," said Brienne sadly.

Catelyn stopped and faced her. "He's gone, Brienne. You serve nothing and no one by following him into the earth. Renly's enemies are Robb's enemies as well; they were close to uniting and putting an end to this war."

Brienne tilted her head. "You have courage, my lady. Not battle courage perhaps, but…I don't know…a _woman's _kind of courage. I believe that's why your son wished for me to guard you as your sworn shield. For I think that when the time comes, you will not hold me back. Promise me that when the time comes, you will not hold me back from Stannis!"

"When the time comes, I will not hold you back," replied Catelyn. _I pity Stannis now._ She turned around, only to discover that they were standing in front of the last door on the left.

Inside, a man was shackled to the wall with every chain imaginable. His long, golden locks were dirty and stringy, his face was battered, and a thick beard had sprouted from his once clean-shaven face. But his emerald eyes were still alert, and a haughty expression curved his lips as Catelyn took the torch from Brienne and stepped into the cell, trying not to gag from the smell of his shit.

"Ah, Lady Catelyn. I am so pleased that you've come back to visit me. And you've brought a friend." For a prisoner, Jaime Lannister's voice never lost its arrogant tone. The Kingslayer had been beaten, shuffled around from camp to camp, and beaten some more by his captors, yet he never cowed. A small part of Catelyn respected that.

"Ser Jaime. I trust you have found your accommodations acceptable."

"Oh, I don't know," remarked the Kingslayer, straining his chained neck to look around the dingy cell. "I could do with some fragrants. Or perhaps some reading material. Do you have a room with a view?" He glanced over at Brienne, eyes growing wide. "Because the one in this cell just got a lot worse. Is that a woman?"

"You are not long for this world, Kingslayer. Lord Karstark wants your head."

"Yes, I've heard he doesn't like me. Wonder why."

"You strangled his son with your chains."

"Was he the one on guard duty?" mused Jaime. "He was in my way. Any knight would have done the same." _He talks as if another man's life is nothing. What advice could a man such as this possibly give me?_

"You are no knight, ser. You are an oathbreaker. You are the Kingslayer. Men both in and outside these walls want your head. It is only by my son's will that you continue to breathe. Why are you in such a rush to leave my son's hospitality? He keeps you alive and fed." Catelyn posed the question in such a way that Jaime would answer in the way she needed.

"I'd prefer to be well-fed. The portions are rather small. And I'd like to practice my swordplay, it has been so very long since I've had a challenge. Your whore-fucking husband," Jaime faltered, for Brienne had drawn her sword. "…was the last. Come now, Lady Stark, you did not come down here to kill me in the dead of night. Why are you really here? Are you finally going to take me up on my offer from before? I don't smell the best, it's true, but slip out of that gown and I'm sure we can stomach it."

Catelyn studied him for a moment, then carefully asked, "Do you love your sister?"

"More than you love your children," said Jaime readily.

"Impossible. But you genuinely love her. You desire her. Joffrey is your son, as are the other two. You fathered those children out of love for her." Catelyn hesitated, then said, "How does it feel?"

Jaime raised his eyebrows. "How does _what_ feel?"

"To be away from her. To know that in sight of gods and men you cannot take her as your lawful wife. The love you bear her is forbidden to you. How does _that_ make you feel?" asked Catelyn.

The Kingslayer looked at Catelyn for a long time. The seconds crept by as the silence between them hardened. He was so still, he might have stopped breathing and died and Catelyn wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. Finally, he spoke.

"Cersei and I had the misfortune to not bear the name Targaryen. If we had, no one would have looked twice at us. You ask deep questions, my lady. Is it that my tortured life is a source of amusement for you on such a late night?"

"Answer mine question, ser."

More silence, followed at last by Jaime sighing. "It hurts worse than any pain, I can assure you. Your own husband is dead; you'll get over it, move on, perhaps marry again. But right now, my heart hurts worse than anything those soldiers could do to me. When I am parted from Cersei…that is the greatest pain imaginable…"

Catelyn closed her eyes. The pain that Jaime Lannister was describing was surely what Robb was going through. If it was not that extreme yet, the pain would only grow with time. His life, his marriage, his family…they might be wracked with unhappiness like so many arranged marriages. Even worse, he was the leader of an army. He could make wrong decisions based on this folly. No, she had to help him get the girl out of his head. There was no other way. _He must forget this girl, whoever she is, lest he dooms himself._

Jaime was still speaking. "…and the Mad King himself with all his burning of prisoners like your beloved Brandon would be preferable to spending any more time away from Cersei. Does that answer your question, my lady?" Jaime gave her a smirk. _Do not get angry, it is what he wants. Say nothing._

Catelyn gave him one last scathing look. "I asked you once before, when my son captured you at Whispering Wood, why you crippled my son Bran. You refused to answer then. I think my son caught you and your sister at your incest, and you threw him from the tower to protect your secret."

"Your son seems to think the same thing. If you already know, why ask it?" Catelyn did not answer.

"I'd advise you to get some sleep, my lady. The sun will be coming up soon, and you've spent far too much time in the company of a man with no honor. For a she-wolf like yourself, that's not ideal, is it not?" The haughty tone of the Kingslayer had returned, and Catelyn knew she would get no more from him tonight.

"Come, Brienne." The warrior maid had remained mercifully silent throughout her exchange with Jaime, and for that, Catelyn was grateful.

As they walked out of the cell, Jaime called, "I'd advise you to keep a close eye on the Young Wolf! The girl who has his heart dictates his actions now, not his precious honor! Once he starts down that road, there's no going back! Take it from me, Lady Stark!" He probably would have yelled more, but Brienne slammed the cell door and they could hear him no longer.

As they walked out of the dungeons, Catelyn pressed her hands to her temples. "I gave him too many clues. He now knows that my son has a weakness." _I should have kept my mouth shut. I gave Jaime Lannister a weapon to destroy Robb. _

"My lady, if you don't mind my saying so, I do not think that you gave the Kingslayer much of anything. Soldiers talk, he probably knew that Robb was returning last night. He figured that the timing of your questions along with your son's return were connected." _She is right, I worry for nothing. The Kingslayer won't take the field against my son anytime soon._

They emerged from the dungeons with only Brienne's torch and darkness to accompany them. Catelyn made her way up to her childhood bedroom and led Brienne to a guest room next door. As Catelyn made to close the door, she stopped and looked at Brienne with a sudden thought. Catelyn supposed it did not matter, but her curiosity got the better of her.

"Brienne, you were with my son while he was treating with Renly. I do not suppose you know the identity of the girl that has captured his mind and heart?"

Brienne's face was passive. "My lady, I beg you please. Do not make me tell you. I have been sworn to keep that information a secret."

"Did Robb ask you not to tell me? Or anyone?" asked Catelyn.

"No. I swore to the girl in question that I would not betray her confidence on the subject, my lady." And with that Brienne bowed and left to go to her room, leaving Catelyn lost in thought until she finally fell asleep from exhaustion. She did not wake until the sun shone through her window, and the sound of movement stirred her.

Robb was there to awaken her, as were Brienne, Edmure, and the Blackfish.

"Robb, did I not teach it is rude to intrude upon a sleeping lady, even if she is your lady mother?" yawned Catelyn.

"Apologies, Mother. But we have been up since dawn, and we have planned our next move."

"Since dawn? You rode all day yesterday. You should have slept, my son."

"The Blackfish said the same," smiled Robb. "But there were too many plans to make, and not enough time. He did say not to disturb you, but I felt you should know."

"Know what?" asked Catelyn.

"We shall ride for Oxcross today and join with the men. We are moving on Ashemark and the Crag while the Greatjon raids the gold mines," announced Robb.

Catelyn stood up. She had thought to remain here with her ailing father, awaiting the news that Winterfell had been liberated and her children were safe so she could go home to them. She hadn't counted on Robb leaving so quickly. And with this mystery girl in his head, she needed to be by his side to ensure he did not make wrong decisions at this critical juncture. _No, I must go with him. Bran and Rickon, I pray you will be alright. Please forgive me._

"I shall accompany you, Robb. To guide you, nothing more. What will you do after the Crag?"

There was a hungry gleam in Robb's eye. "I am going to take the Lannisters' home from them. I am going to take Casterly Rock."

* * *

**Author's Note: So we are now seeing how the 'ripple', for lack of a better term, is starting to spread. As more and more events diverge from canon material, so too will the POVs, like with Catelyn. As readers of the books and viewers of the show will know, Robb was preparing for an assault on Casterly Rock before the Red Wedding. Just to clarify, his decision to forgo a relationship with Margaery and return to the war for Northern independence is causing him heartache, and his way of dealing with it will be to attack Casterly Rock.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Please review and favorite and follow some more!**


	6. Chapter 6: Arya

_Chapter Six: Arya_

Arya Stark thought of what her brothers or her parents would say if they knew where she was and what she was doing right now. She thought of Septa Mordane, who would no doubt criticize her for the poor way she was serving Lord Tywin Lannister as his cupbearer in the great castle of Harrenhal.

Every day, she feared that Tywin Lannister would figure out who she really was. It had taken him but a quick glance to realize that she was a girl, rather than the boy she dressed as. He had almost caught her the other day when he asked her where she was from. Then there was the reverent way she had spoken to him about her brother, Robb Stark. _He will have figured it out, he knows now_. But Tywin did not seem to see it.

"Can you read?"

As it so happened, she was once again waiting on him during a war council. She moved to pour wine (or was it water that he wanted?) in the glass of one of Tywin's councilors, Ser Amory Lorch. Tywin grabbed her arm to stop her from pouring and addressed the man with the same question. "_Can you read?"_

Arya stopped and moved around to top off the glass of another man, listening to Tywin's frustration with an internal satisfaction. _If Tywin is unhappy, that means Robb is still winning._

"This letter, detailing our infantry movements, was meant for Lord Damon of House Marbrand. It was sent to Lord Marlin of House Dormund."

"My apologies, my lord, I must have…" Ser Amory was off and running his mouth with regrets and promises not to repeat, but Tywin cut him off.

"Girl," he commanded, addressing Arya. "Fetch me _The History of the Greater and the Lesser Houses_. It's one on the…" Tywin faltered and started to chuckle, for Arya had retrieved the book before he had spatially told her which one the book was. "My cupbearer can read better than you," he finished with a scathing glance at Ser Amory. Arya moved away, realizing her folly. _He knows I can read. Cupbearers are not supposed to know how to read. He'll know, he'll know._

But Tywin seemed more interested in berating Ser Amory at the moment than giving much thought to his peculiar cupbearer. He flicked open the tome and pointed to the page detailing House Dormund. "To whom does House Dormund owe allegiance?"

Ser Amory hemmed and hawed at the question. "My lord…"

But stalling did not work on Tywin Lannister. Arya had figured that out right away. The Old Lion exploded at Ser Amory. "To the Starks of Winterfell! Who have twenty thousand men and my son!" Tywin closed the book and sneered at Ser Amory. "I judged you might be good for something more than brutalizing peasants. I see I overestimated you."

Arya poured another glass further down the table, doing a small dance on the inside. _Ha, ha, Robb will have you all beaten in no time._

"If you ever put my son's life at risk again, I'll…" Tywin let the threat hang in the air venomously. "Leave us." Ser Amory scrambled to take his leave.

"Put the book away, girl," grumbled Tywin. Arya obliged, trying to keep her face passive. But it was hard while simultaneously cheering on the inside for Robb's success.

"Maybe you should devise our next battle plan while you're about it." Tywin said it as a joke, but Arya was already thinking. _I would send you to directly to fight Robb. He'll kill you; he'll kill all of you._

"Let me ask you a question, girl, since these other idiots haven't a clue."

"Ask what, my lord?"

"Who should we fight: Stannis Baratheon, who is no doubt sailing for King's Landing to take the Iron Throne from my grandson and my children and grandchildren, or Robb Stark, who has my son and heir captive as he closes in on my home?"

Arya hesitated, then said, "If the capital falls, your family will be dead. I would go there, my lord."

Tywin looked at her curiously. "And what of my ancestral home, or my son, who is a prisoner at the mercy of my enemies?"

Arya hardened her face. "A home is naught but a castle, my lord. You have another son and grandchildren."

Before Tywin could reply, a messenger knocked on the door of the war room to announce the arrival of a visitor. "Lord Petyr Baelish."

Arya felt herself go rigid. Every other thought was suddenly wiped from her mind. _No, please no. Not him. _She had met Littlefinger face to face in King's Landing. He knew perfectly well that she was Arya Stark of Winterfell and had probably been hunting for her since she had escaped. And now, he was about to catch her without even having to deliver her.

"Clear the room," ordered Tywin. The other lords and knights departed at once, but Arya remained behind, still thinking about the horrific scenario that was about to take place.

"Clear all this!" came the slightly irritated voice of Tywin. He was not used to having to tell servants what to do. _Stay calm. Stay calm. Just don't look at him. He's here to talk to Tywin, not look at the servants. Stay calm. _Arya repeated her mantra in her head as she set about clearing the table.

"Lord Tywin!" The sycophantic call of Littlefinger echoed in the air as the Master of Coin stepped in the room. "Baelish." Tywin's response was less than enthusiastic.

Arya immediately moved to turn her back to Littlefinger. _Please be quick. Say your say and go. Please._ But Littlefinger settled in comfortably.

"Wine?" asked Tywin.

"Thank you."

Arya had no choice but to pick up the pitcher. _Just look at Tywin. Don't look at me. Look at Tywin. _She moved around the table to pour from Littlefinger's right, so that he couldn't look at her without ignoring Tywin.

"What news from the capital?" asked Tywin.

"I traveled here directly from Renly Baratheon's camp. With me are his grieving widow, the fair Lady Margaery of House Tyrell, and her elder brother, Ser Loras."

"Why are they here?"

"These plans are delicate, and time slips away from us all. Stannis has taken command of the storm lords Renly held dominion over and will surely sail for the capital with all his power before two moon turns," answered Littlefinger. "Also, my lord, it may interest you to know that Robb Stark was also there at Renly's camp when I arrived."

"Really? Trying to ally himself no doubt." The interest in Tywin's voice made Arya's skin prickle with fear. _Fear cuts deeper than swords,_ she reminded herself. "My scouts did not inform me that anyone had departed Robb Stark's encampment in the Westerlands or from Riverrun. A direwolf running is a hard thing to miss."

"Regardless, my lord, it is too late to take advantage. Stark is no doubt back in the safety of his men by now."

Arya moved away from Littlefinger after she finished pouring. "If that's the case, then wasn't Robb Stark at Storm's End when Renly was murdered? I've heard tell that a woman slayed him, but if the Stark boy was there…" _No, Robb would never._ Arya recalled Renly Baratheon from the Hand's tourney; he had jested well with Littlefinger and was nice enough. She couldn't imagine Robb killing him.

"I doubt it, my lord. Of either the woman or Robb Stark. There has been talk of other forces at work. Dark forces," said Littlefinger ominously.

Arya strode around Tywin's chair, keeping her face away from Littlefinger's line of sight. He still had not looked at her; perhaps her luck would hold out.

But Tywin stopped her. "Here," and held out his glass for her to refill. Arya filled it with her back to Littlefinger, an odd pose to make.

"Men love to blame demons when their grand plans unravel," mused Tywin to Littlefinger.

"It is my belief that a moment of chaos affords opportunities lost soon after," said Littlefinger with the air of being wise. Tywin was not so easily impressed. "You say that as if you were the first man alive to think it. Yes, a crisis is an opportunity. What other brilliant insights have you brought me today?"

Arya had moved away from the table. _Say nothing and go. Take your leave._ But Littlefinger was still talking. "After the Lannisters and the Starks, the Tyrells command the largest host. The lands are the most fertile in the Seven Kingdoms, feeding horses and soldiers. The Tyrells have not yet declared for any of the surviving kings. Loras wants revenge; he blames Stannis for Renly's death. And Margaery…"

"Wants to be queen," finished Tywin.

"Yes, she does," nodded Littlefinger.

"House Tyrell rebelled against the Iron Throne. Against my grandson," noted Tywin.

"Yes, they did. Perhaps that treason should be punished one day. After Stannis and Robb Stark are defeated."

Tywin paused for a second, then addressed Arya. "More wine for Lord Baelish."

At that, Littlefinger turned towards Arya, but she was already walking in the other direction, forcing him to crane his neck the other way.

"I have Margaery and Loras here with me today, but obviously only their father, Lord Mace Tyrell, can pledge the allegiance of House Tyrell to the Iron Throne. But, in your stead, I have made them quite…receptive towards an alliance with your family. Allow me to represent you in these negotiations. With your leave, we will head for Highgarden today where their lord father raced to with his host after Renly's death."

Tywin was about to answer, but Arya had missed Lord Baelish's cup with the pitcher. She had been too worried about what a Lannister-Tyrell alliance would mean for Robb and her mother and brothers that she wasn't focused. She spilled wine all over Littlefinger's lap and the table.

"Pardon, my lord," Arya said hastily. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Lord Tywin smiling slightly.

"It's only wine," Littlefinger said smoothly. Arya wiped up the spill with the side of her face just visible to Littlefinger. She could see him craning his neck to get a better view…she needed a weapon…she needed to run…

"You would ride there yourself?"

Arya had never been so happy to hear the attention-commanding voice of Tywin Lannister in her life. Littlefinger was forced to abandon his curiosity of the mysterious cupbearer to give Tywin his full, undivided attention.

"Tonight, with your leave."

"If you have Loras and Margaery in your company, you would obviously head there even if I said no. Very well. I want an answer by nightfall. That will be all, girl!" he added to Arya. "Now, what else?"

"I expected to meet Catelyn Stark with Renly Baratheon, by my predictions, the Young Wolf would have sent her. But he was there himself. I went there under Tyrion's directive to discuss a proposal…regarding the Stark girls." At that, Arya left the hall as quickly as she could. With her on his mind, she could not be in Littlefinger's company a second longer.

She hurried outside where soldiers were guarding a carriage, no doubt for Littlefinger. As she walked across the muddy ground of Harrenhal, _I have to find a way to warn Robb. I have to get out of here. _

Arya was so lost in thought that she did not see the soldiers moving to allow for the carriage door to open. Arya walked right into the open door and went down in a splendid heap right in front of the carriage at the feet of the soldiers. Pain shot up her leg and arm; she had skinned her knee and her elbow trying to cushion her fall. Her face was covered in mud. She started to get up, gritting her teeth from the sting, when the occupant of the carriage stepped out.

The girl in the carriage would have made Sansa look like Arya in comparison. Her doe eyes and curly brown hair fell to her shoulders in lazy ringlets, and she wore a light green dress that cut very low. Arya had the impression that most highborn girls were like her sister, snobbish and dull in the head. This girl was clearly the exception, for she took one look at Arya and gently knelt beside her.

"I am so sorry, my dear. You poor thing, you must be in pain. Let me help you get cleaned up." Normally, Arya would have spat at the coddling, but she did need help. The girl's voice felt relaxing, so Arya relaxed. "Thank you, my lady."

The girl helped Arya into the carriage. The interior was quite nice, decorated with the luxury that lords and ladies were accustomed to. It reminded Arya of the carriage that she and Sansa rode in down to King's Landing, until Arya had ridden in the back with Mycah. The other occupant in the carriage was also pleasant to look at. He looked like the girl but was dressed in armor. He had an unhappy look on his face as he gazed out at Harrenhal.

"Sister, what are you doing? Littlefinger told us not to leave the carriage."

"I needed some air and I don't follow Littlefinger. Besides, this girl needs help. I accidentally hit her with the door. Loras, why don't you stand outside? You could do with some air." Suddenly, Arya remembered him: Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers whom the Hound and the Mountain had come to blows over during the Hand's tourney. He had given Sansa a rose, and of course she had swooned and fallen for him.

Loras bent and stepped out of the carriage, giving a small bow to Arya. _He doesn't remember me. Why would he, he never looked at me or saw me closely enough._

Loras' sister took a sponge from beneath her seat and gently dabbed at Arya's scrapes. Arya watched her for a second, and then recalled what Littlefinger said back in the war room. "You're Margaery Tyrell." She blurted it out, but why, she hadn't a clue.

Margaery smiled. "Yes, I am. I hope you'll forgive my brother. Usually Loras is much more courteous, but he's grieving slightly right now."

Arya tilted her head, mostly so Margaery could scrub away the mud and dirt on her face. "I thought Littlefinger said that you were married to Renly Baratheon, who's dead. Aren't you sad?"

The look on Margaery's face was so familiar, Arya instantly knew where she'd seen that look before. On her own face. It was a mask, keeping her true emotions and feelings hidden underneath. Arya had learned to see a person's true emotions whilst at Harrenhal. On the outside, Margaery said, "Yes, I grieve very much for Renly, but he was a traitor to the realm. The brave Lord Tywin and the Lannisters fight for peace and justice. I hope to be sided with those who fight for such ideals."

But on the inside, Arya could tell, Margaery didn't particularly care. She had no more love for the Lannisters than Arya did, but as a girl, her fate was decided by her elders. The look underneath Margaery's mask was one of indifference and…hurt? No, not hurt. Perhaps pain? Longing? That one, Arya supposed, was for Renly.

"There. All done. I pray I'll be more careful." Margaery finished wrapping Arya's leg with bandages. Arya hadn't even noticed her start on the bandages, but her arm and leg were indeed wrapped. "Thank you, my lady," she said graciously.

"What's a girl such as yourself doing in a place like Harrenhal?" asked Margaery lightly.

"I serve Lord Tywin as his cupbearer. My father was a traitor to the realm and was killed for it. I was running and Lord Tywin took me on as his cupbearer when I was caught and brought to Harrenhal."

Margaery smiled. "Yes, Lord Tywin is merciful, isn't he?" _Merciful? Yes, that's what I think of when I think of Tywin Lannister. _"Eventually, he'll bring an end to the fighting and remove the outlaws from our Seven Kingdoms." Arya noticed that her mouth slightly curved into a frown when she said the last part.

"My lady, if you don't mind…never mind. Forgive me, I forget my place. I shouldn't ask questions."

Margaery laughed. "No, no, by all means. You are the most interesting person I've spoken to today. Save me from boredom and ask."

"Alright then…you seemed down when you spoke about the outlaws. If you don't mind, why?"

Margaery looked at her quizzically before answering. "Those men are all fighting for what they think is right. But some of what they think is right is actually wrong. And it's sad that they shall have to lose their lives for that."

"I don't think that they're all wrong. My own family fights for what's right."

"Well, if they raised such an intelligent girl such as yourself, I'm sure that what they're fighting for is right."

Arya dared to go a step further. She didn't know why, but she wanted to gauge the reaction of Margaery Tyrell. She had figured out Littlefinger and Tywin's plans for her were: to be married to Joffrey instead over Sansa and become queen. If she was the future queen, Arya wanted to know how she would handle her brother. "My family fights for Robb Stark."

Arya expected her to shake her head sadly and say that her family was misguided. What she didn't expect was for Margaery to be silent and get a faraway look in her eyes. Under the mask, Arya saw the same hurt look she had seen before. _That's weird. _But above the mask, Margaery smiled and said, "Then I'm sure your family will serve him honorably."

Her brief experience in King's Landing had taught Arya that everyone at court was out for themselves. Judging by Margaery's tender care of her hurt leg and arm, she was after something else. It could be manners and courtesy and all that other dumb stuff that Septa Mordane and her mother tried to force upon her. But somehow Arya didn't think so.

"You don't think that my family is a traitor that needs to be punished?" asked Arya.

Margaery laughed. "You've spent too much time in Lord Tywin's company." _Truer words were never spoken._ "As someone who was married to a 'traitor' in the Lannisters' eyes, the possibility of forgiveness and peace is quite welcoming."

Arya changed topics. "Why are you trusting Littlefinger? He's a liar."

"They're all liars in King's Landing. And trust me," Margaery winked. "I don't trust Littlefinger any more than you do. But right now, he's travelling to meet my father and arrange this alliance. So I am in his company, nothing more. Between you and me, I would have gone straight back to Highgarden while my brother and father handled this rather than travel here with Littlefinger."

"Then why are you here?"

"A friend of mine is fighting against the Lannisters. I wanted to see what the Lannisters were like in the field, to see what my friend is fighting. Unfortunately, the only way was to come here in a carriage with Littlefinger.

"He betrayed my father. Don't trust him."

"Have no fear on that account. I will not." There was a brief silence, and then Margaery looked at Arya closely. "If your father was betrayed by Littlefinger, then you must have resided in King's Landing."

"Um, yes," admitted Arya. _Careful, now. She might look friendly, but if she figures out your identity, she'll tell Littlefinger and Lord Tywin._

"What is it like?"

That threw Arya off guard. That was not the question she expected, but she answered it honestly. "It's…horrible. Everyone is trying to use other people for themselves, the city stinks like horseshit, and the commonfolk are rather abused and forgotten. My lady," she added.

Margaery nodded thoughtfully. "You know, I want to be queen because I want to help others who don't have someone to look out for them. The commonfolk like you are tossed aside during this war and made to suffer. As the queen, I can change that. In Highgarden, I did some charity work to help the underprivileged, but as queen, I could do more. I want to _act_, not _react_."

"I'd like to see that," Arya said, putting on the wistful expression of a lowborn girl with dreamy thoughts.

Margaery smiled. "I hope you do. It's been very pleasant to talk to you. What's your name?"

Thankfully, Arya did not have to think one up because at that moment, Loras Tyrell opened the carriage door. "Littlefinger is coming. We are leaving for Highgarden, sister."

Arya looked up and saw that the Knight of Flowers was right. Tywin and Littlefinger were emerging from the base of the tower, which meant that Arya needed to disappear before Littlefinger laid eyes on her.

"Thank you so much, Lady Margaery. I shall take my leave. I wish you well on your journey!" And with that, Arya tumbled out of the carriage and skidded across the courtyard before Littlefinger saw her. She crept around the soldiers and headed up with Tywin as Littlefinger and the Tyrells departed.

Inside the war room, Arya set about clearing the table from the meeting. On the table lay a message that was to be sent out. She scanned the message and her heart jumped when she saw the subject: _Robb Stark._

"Who taught you to read?" Tywin asked. The Warden of the West had come up behind her and saw her reading the message. Or perhaps he was remembering the scene with Amory Lorch from earlier.

"My father," answered Arya readily. "My lord."

"Mmm. I taught my son Jaime to read. The maester came to me one day, told me he wasn't learning. He couldn't make sense of the letters. He reversed them in his head," Tywin reminisced. "Maester said he'd heard tell of this affliction and that we simply must accept it. Ha! After that, I sat Jaime for four hours every day until he learned. He hated me for it, for a time. For a long time. But he learned."

Arya said nothing but continued to clean. But Tywin eyed her with piqued curiosity. "Where is your father now? Is he alive?" Arya quietly shook her head with the smallest of shakes.

"Who was he?" probed Tywin.

"A…stonemason," said Arya, naming the first occupation that popped into her head.

"A stonemason who could read," said Tywin with thinly veiled surprise in his voice.

"He taught himself."

"Quite a man. What killed him?"

Arya thought for a moment. _You did. Joffrey did. The queen did. Ilyn Payne did. _But the answer that came to her lips surprised even her. "Loyalty."

Tywin looked at her, right in the eyes for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he said, "You're a sharp little thing, aren't you?"

Arya glanced at the message about her brother. She needed to read it. Or find a way to send it to Robb. Or at least burn it so the Lannisters could not send it. She needed to distract him. Suddenly, she recalled her talk with Margaery and her questions.

"Did…" she faltered on purpose with the air of remembering one's place as a servant not to ask questions. "Forgive me, my lord. I shouldn't ask questions." Arya resumed clearing the table, holding her breath. _Take the bait._

"No. But you've already begun." _I did it. _Now for the proper question that would distract Tywin. Nothing about his children; that would send him either into a rage or cause him to start questioning her more vigorously. No…the question should be about…_Aha. _

"Did you know your father, my lord?"

"I did. I grew up with him. I watched him grow old." Tywin crossed the room and sat down in his chair overlooking the courtyard. He became temporarily lost in his memories, just as Arya predicted. "He loved us. He was a good man. But a weak man. A weak man who nearly destroyed our house and name."

As Tywin talked, Arya reached across the table and pocketed the message concerning Robb. Just in time, too, for Tywin suddenly awakened back to reality and addressed her directly. "I'm cold."

"I'll fetch more wood for the fire, my lord," said Arya. _I did it. I helped Robb. I did it!_

Arya left the room and hurried downstairs, daring to pull out the message. She sat on a battlement that overlooked the courtyard and scanned the message. It contained Lannister movements against Robb. _I need to send this to him. _

Dashing down the steps to the courtyard, Arya ran for the ravens. _Send it to Robb, send it to Robb, send it to…_ She stopped, for she had run headfirst into Ser Amory Lorch.

"Where are you going, girl?" he said roughly.

"The armory, my lord."

"Why?"

"Lord Tywin sent me." Usually, that would have been enough. Everyone, including his own men, were scared shitless of Tywin Lannister. But Amory Lorch spotted the letter clutched in her hand.

"What might this be?" he growled.

"Lord Tywin gave it to me," lied Arya.

"What for?" queried Ser Amory.

"To take to the armory."

"Why would he do that?" asked Ser Amory. This time, Arya could not come up with a reason fast enough. Ser Amory reached out to grab her. "Let's go and ask him." But Arya was already in full flight. She slipped away from Amory Lorch and sped through the courtyard. She raced between two soldiers and disappeared amongst the prisoners.

Arya chanced a glance around the wall. Amory Lorch was already walking back towards Tywin's tower. If he got there and told Tywin…

No, she needed him gone. It was time to use the second name. _Where's Jaqen?_

She ran through the ruined battlements, looking for the Lannister soldier with long brown hair. _Come on, please. I need you now. _At last, she spotted him.

Breathing hard as she skidded to a halt next to him, she gasped, "Amory Lorch."

Jaqen H'ghar turned to her with that polite, yet emotionless face of his. "A girl has named a second name. A man will do what must be done."

"Now!" ordered Arya. _He's halfway there, I'm running out of time._

"A girl cannot tell a man when he exactly must do a thing. A man cannot make a thing happen before its time."

Arya found herself suddenly thinking once again of her talk with Margaery Tyrell. She needed to act, not react. The time to act was now.

"But he's going to tell Tywin, he's getting away, it has to be now!"

Jaqen finally displayed an emotion. And it was one that Arya knew all too well from those who dealt with her: exasperation. He nodded once and swiftly walked towards Tywin's tower. Arya remained, still trying to catch her breath. _Would he make it in time?_

The answer came from Tywin himself. Despite the clanking of armor and the marching footsteps, the Old Lion's voice still rang out louder than it all. "_Guard!"_ And with that, Arya knew she was safe for a little bit longer.

* * *

**Author's Note: Here comes the author's note, you know what to do.**


	7. Chapter 7: Tyrion

**Note: Most of this chapter is canon with the Battle of the Blackwater, just with more of Tyrion's thoughts and a few addendums. This was done to illustrate how some events will remain the same, but the end result shall change. **

* * *

_Chapter Seven: Tyrion_

It was late at night, and Tyrion Lannister was in the last place in Westeros he thought he'd be: His elder sister Cersei's bedchambers in the Red Keep.

_The books of battle I love so much never told of the sleepless nights before the battle,_ mused the Imp. He would have loved to do nothing more than retire to the Tower of the Hand, perhaps fuck Shae a few times before rolling off and going to sleep. But those plans had been royally fucked when the scouts sent a raven not an hour ago.

"Since when do you light your own candles," asked Tyrion. He did not particularly care, but rather was just making small talk. Small talk, he'd discovered, was the simplest way to prevent Cersei from making insults or thinly veiled threats at him. It was distracting and innocuous, unlike her.

"Since I decided I couldn't stand to look at any of my handmaidens for another instant," replied Cersei. She finished her task and looked back at Tyrion, who once again immersed himself in the raven's message. _Dark wings, dark words._ "How many times can you read one raven's scroll?" she asked with a question of her own.

Tyrion sighed. "Stannis Baratheon's fleet has been spotted sailing north, past Tarth. Two hundred ships."

"More than we have," noted Cersei.

"Yes. That's more than we have." Tyrion's irritated tone was probably not wise, considering the most dangerous woman in Westeros was in the room with him, but he did not care. He was more concerned with keeping his family alive for the next week than he did about common courtesies.

"He'll be at our gates within five days; four if he has the wind," said Tyrion.

"We have strong, high walls. We'll rain fire down upon him from above," remarked Cersei. Tyrion closed his eyes, struggling to keep his temper. Cersei was quoting their father, the ruthless Lord of Casterly Rock who was infamous for putting down House Reyne of Castamere. _Rain fire down from above. Father would be proud, if you hadn't been stupid enough to get us in this mess in the first place._

"Father is not here, and neither is Jaime. It's just you and me and Joffrey. The Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm," he added mockingly. "The boy needs to start acting like a king. This war you started is coming to our doorstep! His presence will rally the men behind him. The odds already aren't great. If men are going to fight for him, then he should fight for them, not cower behind his mother's skirts."

Cersei sat down and became lost in thought. "I always hoped he'd be like Jaime. He looks like him…in a certain light," she added. Tyrion rolled his eyes. _Is that the new line we're going with to explain away Stannis' accusations? _"Sometimes, I wonder…"

"What?" asked Tyrion.

"If this is the price for what we've done. For our sins. I know the Targaryens wed brother to sister for hundreds of years. It's what Jaime and I would say to each other in our moments of doubt. It's what I told Ned Stark when he was stupid enough to confront me about it. But half the Targaryens went mad, didn't they? There's even the saying about it."

"Well, you've beaten the odds," said Tyrion as gently as he could. Cersei looked up at him, close to tears. "Tommen and Myrcella are good, decent children. Both of them."

Nothing more was said, but Tyrion's dislike of Cersei lessened ever so slightly. Until of course, the next day when she revealed that she had captured Tyrion's whore and would only ensure her safety if Tyrion assured Joffrey's. Never mind that she had gotten the wrong girl; Shae was safe for now. But Tyrion still dreaded as Stannis' fleet drew nearer and nearer.

The next few days, Tyrion made his plan with Bronn and Varys. Ironically, Cersei had given him the idea. His carefully laid plan that their victory would rest upon. _Jaime will hate me for this, I know it, but I'm trying to save your sons. He may not be the rightful king, but he is still your son. Do not think too harshly of me when you find out._

The night Stannis was expected to arrive in Blackwater Bay with his fleet, Tyrion lay in bed with Shae. _There's never been a better fucking in my life. _He stared up at the ceiling, awaiting the horn that would signify that Stannis Baratheon was at their gates.

"Are you afraid, my lion?" Shae's soft voice washed over him and filled Tyrion with warmth and courage. But the fear remained.

"If the city falls, Stannis will burn every Lannister he can find. Of course I'm afraid." It was the first time Tyrion had voiced his fear aloud.

"I won't them hurt you," said Shae. _Gods be good, I wish I could guarantee our safety, my love._

"I'm a Lannister," sighed Tyrion. "I don't have a choice in all this. But it's not your war." He gave her a tender kiss, hoping to placate her, but Shae instead sat upright and on top of his cock.

"It is now," she said softly.

"You can't fuck your way out of everything," said Tyrion. _But by all means, try._

"I have so far," was Shae's retort. "Do you remember what you said when you met me in your tent? That I should make love to you like it was your last day on this earth." _Please do. Fuck me, Shae. _The whore complied as she knelt down to kiss him. She straddled his cock as they enjoyed what might be their last night alive on earth.

Until the bells rang.

Tyrion hurried over to be fitted for his armor by Pod while Varys made simpering comments about the bells. Tyrion wasn't really listening, even after Varys brought over the map detailing escape tunnels from King's Landing. He was too busy thinking about the plan, his father's absence, and Stannis' penchant for vengeance until Varys said, "You look well suited for battle, my lord."

"Well, I'm not," said Tyrion honestly. He felt no compunction to lie to Varys or Podrick, oddly enough.

"For all our sakes, I hope you are wrong. My little birds tell me that Stannis Baratheon has taken up with a red priestess from Asshai."

"What of it?"

"You don't believe in the old powers, my lord?"

"What do you think?" retorted Tyrion. He had no room in his head for such fantasies. All he could concern himself with was the battle forthcoming and the plan.

"I think you believe in what you see, and in what those you trust have seen," said Varys slowly. "You probably don't entirely trust me. But…" The Master of Whisperers stopped and considered Tyrion. "I don't believe I've ever told you how I was cut."

That got Tyrion's attention. "No, I don't believe you have."

Varys studied him a moment longer, before apparently abandoning the idea by saying. "One day, I will." The Spider changed the subject by discussing Stannis further as Podrick tightened the straps. "The dark arts have provided Lord Stannis with his armies and paved his path to our door. For a man in service to such powers to sit on the Iron Throne…I can think of nothing worse. And tonight, I believe you are the only man who can stop him." _His gelding and Stannis and magic…it's connected. I should think about that tomorrow. If I see tomorrow. _Tyrion was silent as he tried to push the thoughts out of his head, while Podrick handed him his weapon: an axe. But Tyrion still had one more thing on his mind.

"Littlefinger was supposed to bring the Tyrells to our side. Where is he?" The question had to be posed; Tyrion would not go to his grave with that question left unasked. To his disappointment, Varys shrugged. "I know not of Littlefinger's whereabouts or success, only that he arrived in Highgarden where the Tyrell host retreated. I know that he stopped at Harrenhal to speak with your father first. But your father is consumed with the threatening position of Robb Stark in the Westerlands. If we are to live to see tomorrow, it will be you who must stop Stannis."

Tyrion grimaced. "Then I hope Stannis has come down with a sudden bout of dwarfism," he joked.

The Master of Whisperers gave him a small smile. "No, but remember, you fight not only for yourself and the city, but your family too."

"Ah, yes. My beloved sister and our beloved king."

"And the prince," reminded Varys. "I have word that the queen has requested essence of nightshade from the Grand Maester. If you do not defeat Stannis swiftly, I fear that the queen may take matters into her own hands." And with that, Varys took his leave.

The bells continued to toll all over King's Landing. Soon they could hear the drumbeats emanating from Stannis Baratheon's fleet. In the throne room, Tyrion found Bronn and began to speak of the plan once more.

"Remember, wait until the ships are in the bay. They must be far enough in before we hoist the chain."

Bronn snorted, obviously confident with his role, and instead teased Tyrion about his capability to handle his axe. They soon parted, and Tyrion tried not to feel like this was the last time he would lay eyes upon his sellsword friend alive. Hoping for a distraction, he turned his attention across the throne room where Sansa Stark and Shae were standing. _Why are they here?_

He greeted them courteously. "Lady Sansa and…Sheila?"

"Shae."

"Shae, yes." Feigning confusion, Tyrion turned back to Sansa. "Surely my sister has asked for you to join her and the other highborn ladies in Maegor's Holdfast?"

"She had, my lord, but King Joffrey sent for me to see him off." As if on cue, Joffrey, all armored up, strode into the throne room calling for Sansa.

"Always been a great romantic, my nephew," said Tyrion. As Sansa dashed off to see Joffrey, she turned back to the Halfman. "I will pray for your safe return, my lord."

That surprised him. _Shouldn't the girl despise everyone with the name Lannister for what my nephew has done to her? _"Will you?"

"Just as I pray for the king's." _Ah, so she is either a trained bird to repeat my sister's words or she genuinely hopes I, like Joffrey, dies in this battle. Good to know. _Tyrion stood quietly, listening to Joffrey force Sansa to kiss his blade and promise to take Robb Stark's head with it.

With no one looking, Tyrion chanced a conversation with Shae. "Stay safe, my lady."

"And you, my lion." Her reply was imperceptible to all but him. Tyrion looked to Pod, who hurried over and the two of them headed out to the battlements.

Tyrion, Joffrey, Lancel Lannister, the Hound, and Podrick stood amongst the King's Landing garrison on the battlements of the Red Keep, staring out at the misty Blackwater, listening to the beat of Stannis' war drums.

"Where's our fleet?" came the whiny voice of Lancel, breaking Tyrion's concentration.

"On the way," replied Tyrion tersely.

"Why isn't it here now, they're coming!" demanded Joffrey. _Ah, the king. So impatient. _

"If you're so impatient, cut me in half and be done with it," simpered Tyrion. "But if you do, I won't be able to give the signal. No signal, no plan. No plan, and Stannis Baratheon sacks this city, takes the Iron Throne, and puts your pinched little head atop a gate somewhere." Tyrion turned to see the shocked look on his nephew's face. "It might be quite amusing except that my head would be up there too," he finished. He turned his attention back to the Blackwater.

_Come on, just a little bit further. _

The minutes lengthened until finally…

"There they are!" shouted Joffrey. For once, the boy king was right. Out of the fog sailed Stannis Baratheon's mighty war fleet. _It's time._

"Archers to their marks," commanded Tyrion. The order was repeated down the wall and soon the archers had nocked their arrows. "Hold fast," ordered Tyrion. It would not do for arrows to come raining down on Stannis just yet; the plan still needed to be executed.

"What are you doing? We need to attack them!" yelled Joffrey. _Seven hells, Joffrey. _But all Tyrion repeated was, "Hold fast."

A lone ship bearing Joffrey's standard sailed out to greet the two hundred that bore Stannis'. It was all that they needed.

The fleet drew nearer and nearer…it was time. Tyrion hoped that Bronn knew it too. He glanced over at the mouth of the river and saw the mighty chain boom being raised to prevent Stannis' escape. The metal chain boom gleamed in the moonlight through the fog, and Tyrion knew in that instant that his plan was going to succeed.

Tyrion could hear the yells of men coming from Stannis' ships. They had spotted the chain being raised. It was now or never. He grabbed a torch and threw it into the Blackwater. The signal. As it fell, Tyrion only thought of one thing. _Jaime, forgive me._

He could see a lit arrow being nocked from the riverbank. It sailed in a high arc over everyone's heads and broke through the sail on Joffrey's lone ship into the river. Right where the arrow had landed, the water turned green and began to blaze uncontrollably.

Wildfire.

The lone ship was filled to the brim with wildfire, some of it left over from the days of the Mad King, but most newly concocted by the pyromancers on Tyrion's command. The ship had been leaking the combustible all over the Blackwater, causing a chain reaction. The chain boom that had been raised prevented Stannis' ships from retreating as the wildfire spread from ship to ship, exploding the fleet on contact. With a single arrow, Tyrion had single handedly wiped out the majority of Stannis' fleet.

But at what cost?

Even from the battlements of the Red Keep, Tyrion could hear the anguished screams of soldiers who were being burned alive by the wildfire. The green blaze made it much easier to see them. They were jumping into the Blackwater to douse the flames to no avail; the wildfire in the river just burned brighter. The debris from the explosion chain fell everywhere, lighting more ships that had tried to stop or avoid the explosion ablaze. Tyrion closed his eyes and could still see the green haze.

The horrible shrieks that emanated…now he understood why Jaime had slew the Mad King. To prevent this from happening to the citizens of King's Landing. And Tyrion had taken that, coupled with Cersei's earlier remark about 'raining fire from above', to create a monstrous nightmare that the majority of his targets would never awaken from. _Jaime, forgive me._

He turned around to see Joffrey looking ecstatic. But the Hound looked green. At first, Tyrion thought that was merely the reflection of the wildfire, but no. The Hound genuinely looked like he was going to be sick. Preferring to look upon anything else, Tyrion turned his gaze back to the slaughter.

_Perhaps the wildfire caught Stannis. That would be a true gift out of this horror. _Suddenly, Tyrion could hear a voice, louder than the explosion or the wails of men, call out, "COME WITH ME AND TAKE THIS CITY!"

A great cheer erupted from those still alive in the Blackwater, and Tyrion knew that there were no more tricks to be played. _Now we fight man to man. Or I suppose, man to halfman. _The joke he made in his head did little to assuage the guilt he felt, but he reminded himself he still had a job to do.

Stannis' rowboats had descended from the ships that remained, and Stannis Baratheon himself was at the head of the lead rowboat, displaying himself so that all could see.

"He's a serious man, Stannis Baratheon," mused Tyrion. But Joffrey was the opposite. As Stannis' forces rowed closer, the boy king began to panic. "They're coming! They're coming ashore!"

Tyrion turned to the head archer. "Rain fire on them." _If nothing but to shut Joffrey up. His panicking will cause the men to start panicking. _But Joffrey was not so easily placated anymore. "There are too many!"

Tyrion surveyed the formation. "Hound, form a welcome party for any Baratheon troop that manages to touch solid ground." The Hound wordlessly left along with Lancel. No doubt the Hound was glad to be out of sight of the wildfire horror. Tyrion next turned to his loyal squire. "Pod, run to the King's Gate. Bring any men guarding it here, now!" Podrick nodded and departed.

Stannis' rowboats touched the beach, and the claimant king himself jumped out of the first one. The flaming arrows were set loose upon the Baratheon army, but most men were spared and grabbed ladders from the rowboats to scale the walls.

As Tyrion predicted, Stannis' mindset was to break in through the Mud Gate. But the Hound and Lancel's sorties came out themselves, and the two factions crossed swords. Tyrion watched as the Hound went to work, killing Stannis' men with ease, as if it were nothing but practice. Lancel, he saw, fought reasonably well until an arrow caught him in the chest. It did not look serious, but Lancel retreated back inside the gate.

The Hound continued to slaughter any of Stannis' troops that were unfortunate enough to be within render distance of his sword. Tyrion also saw Bronn, who had made his way from his spot on the river, join the fray. The sellsword's skills were impressive; he killed just as many men as the Hound.

Wait…what happened to the Hound?

Sandor Clegane stood rooted in the spot, staring trance-like at the flames on the Blackwater and the one on the soldiers who were screaming. Tyrion noted that he had stopped killing and was falling back. In fact, they were all falling back as the Baratheons pushed forward.

Stannis' ladders were ascending the walls, but at its base, Tyrion could see Stannis fighting himself. Unlike Joffrey, Stannis did not cower at conflict and was impressive to watch. _Too bad he wants to see my head on a spike_.

Tyrion tore his gaze away from the outer fighting to the inside. The Hound was drinking wine and didn't seem to be in a hurry to continue fighting. "Can I bring you some iced milk and a bowl of raspberries," he mocked.

"Eat shit, dwarf," was Sandor Clegane's courteous response.

"You're on the wrong side of the wall."

"I lost half my men. The Blackwater's on fire." His tone was so somber, for the first time, Tyrion wondered if the man truly had empathy.

"Dog, I command you to go back out there and fight!" Joffrey's voice cracked slightly as he shrilled his orders to his sworn shield. For once, Tyrion agreed with his nephew. _You fight better than most of these men. Go back and fight!_

"You're Kingsguard, Clegane. You must beat them back or they're going to take this city. Your king's city." But for once, Tyrion Lannister's words failed him. In fact, they only seemed to strengthen the Hound's resolve.

"Fuck the Kingsguard. Fuck the city. Fuck the king."

And with that, Sandor "The Hound" Clegane strode off somewhere, leaving both Tyrion and Joffrey dumbstruck.

Suddenly, cousin Lancel was there. "Your Grace, the queen has commanded me to bring you back to the Red Keep."

Tyrion instantly saw the dire situation. _Cersei, you fool. You've doomed us all. _He had to bring Joffrey under control. "If you won't defend your own city, why should they?"

Joffrey turned to him, the frightened boy in him overtaking the cruel king. "What would you have me do?"

"Lead! Get down there and lead your people against the invaders who want to kill them!"

But Joffrey was desperate to cling to life. "What did my mother say exactly? Did she have urgent business with me?" _Your mother just wants to keep your head out of Stannis' reach. But her efforts will only help Stannis do such a thing. Don't be a fool. Stay and lead!_

"She did not say, Your Grace," remarked Lancel.

Joffrey turned to his Kingsguard. "Ser Boros, Ser Mandon, stay with my uncle and represent the king on the field of battle." With that, Joffrey raced away to the Red Keep.

Tyrion could feel the morale dropping as the king ran away. His defenders watched him go. _Stannis is right outside the door, and the men no longer have courage to keep him out. _Tyrion heard the murmurs and whispers and resolved to put an end to it.

Tyrion Lannister did not have height, nor beauty, nor much prestige. What he did have was a way with words and a sharp mind. He could rally the crowd behind him. He must rally the crowd behind him. He recalled Varys' words from earlier. _'I believe you are the only man who can stop him.'_

"I'll lead the attack!" yelled the dwarf of Casterly Rock. But many were not interested in fighting anymore, nor were they interested in listening to a dwarf. But Tyrion did not give up. "They say I'm half a man. But what does that make the lot of you?!"

"The only way out is through the gates," called a soldier. "And they're at the gates!"

"There's another way out. I'm going to show you. We'll come out behind them and fuck them in their arses." Over his speech, the pounding of Stannis' battering ram continued to thunder on the Mud Gate.

Tyrion yelled louder. "Don't fight for your king and don't fight for his kingdoms. Don't fight for honor; don't fight for glory. Don't fight for riches because you won't get any! This is your city Stannis means to sack! That's your gate he's ramming! If he gets in, it will be your houses he burns, your gold he steals, your women he will rape! Those are brave men knocking at our door!"

He paused for effect. "Let's go kill them!"

The effect was exactly what Tyrion hoped for. The garrison cheered and roared their approval, their fighting spirit rejuvenated. The Imp rounded up the men and headed for a tunnel that would allow him to get around the invaders and take them in the rear.

Outside the walls, Tyrion hefted his axe and slammed it into the chest of the first Baratheon soldier he spotted. His men did the same, and the world descended into chaos. The Lannister troops took the Baratheon soldiers by surprise and forced them to abandon their ramming of the Mud Gate in favor of a straight up fight.

"Roll it over!" yelled Tyrion, pointing at one of Stannis' rowboats. From the battlements, a soldier tossed down a torch to set the wooden dinghy ablaze. The men cheered around Tyrion Lannister, who for once, did not feel like a dwarf. He felt as tall as any of them, perhaps taller as they chanted his nickname.

"Halfman! Halfman! HALFMAN!"

But suddenly, there was a yell. To Tyrion's right, the rest of the Baratheon army was racing for them.

"Oh, fuck me," grimaced the Halfman.

But the Baratheon soldiers did not look like they were ready for a fight; they ran trying to get away from something. The Lannisters came to meet them, and more chaos erupted. Tyrion swung his axe, trying to kill the nearest enemy soldier, when another Lannister soldier tackled him, leaving Tyrion standing next to Ser Mandon Moore of the Kingsguard.

Tyrion briefly exhaled, but Ser Mandon hefted his sword and swung…at Tyrion. Barely, Tyrion jerked his head back in defense, but not quickly enough. The blade caught his right cheek and sliced upwards, taking a chunk of his nose. The pain was unimaginable; the cut stung in the burning air. _Was the wildfire essence the source of this pain?_

Tyrion looked at Ser Mandon, who raised the sword again to finish the job. But suddenly a spear emerged from his face, and standing at the shaft was Tyrion's savior, Podrick Payne. _There has never lived a more loyal squire_, thought Tyrion numbly. He slumped over, fast losing consciousness, as Podrick caught him deftly.

"My lord?" asked Podrick.

But Tyrion was dumbstruck for the second time that evening. For the cause of the Baratheon army's flight was clear: a mighty host of fresh warriors came charging in from the river. The man in the lead seemed to be the cause of the terror. He was dressed…he was dressed in gold armor with a green cloak wrapped in a particular way. When the Baratheons spotted him, they shrieked and ran. But the new host was hungry for blood and charged at Stannis' army.

"Ghost! It's the king's ghost, come back to haunt us!"

_Ghost? What ghost? What king? _The sigils the new host bore were the golden lion of House Lannister and…

The golden rose of House Tyrell.

"Stand and fight! Stand and fight, damn you!" Stannis Baratheon's battle cry could be heard even over all this, but it was soon silenced, and men were retreating, Stannis presumably amongst them. The new host moved about, slaughtering Stannis' men as they panicked and ran, but most were sailing away. But rather than cheering, Tyrion felt his stomach sink as he recalled his sister.

Tyrion struggled to his feet. "The throne room. Now," he begged Pod. "Before it's too late." He knew what Cersei would do if she thought Stannis was about to take the city. He knew where she would be. And Joffrey and Tommen were in there. Varys had told him that Cersei requested essence of nightshade from Grand Maester Pycelle. _I have to get to the throne room. I have to save them._

Podrick half carried Tyrion, but the Imp was determined not to faint until he had reached the throne room. A secret passageway from Varys' map was all Tyrion needed to slip by the crowd of fighters and into the Red Keep. _Come on, Cersei. Don't do it. Don't do it. _He and Podrick crawled through it and tumbled out from the side of the Iron Throne.

Cersei was sitting on the Iron Throne with Tommen, and…was that a bottle in her hand? Tyrion's vision was rapidly failing from exhaustion and the pain of his wound, which was beginning to burn in agony. But Tyrion summoned his strength.

"Don't do it," he croaked before his knees gave way. Startled, Cersei and Tommen stood up, looking at his sudden appearance. Suddenly, the doors flung open.

Loras Tyrell stood at the head of the army, next to the man in the gold armor with the green cloak. The man took off his helmet and Tyrion recognized him as Ser Garlan the Gallant, Loras Tyrell's elder brother. Both Garlan and Loras looked victorious as they surveyed the scene.

Then they parted to make way for the leader of the Lannister army. Fresh from battle, a triumphant Tywin Lannister strode into the throne room and addressed his family just as Tyrion finally collapsed, but he still heard his father.

"The battle is over. We have won."

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.**


	8. Chapter 8: Robb

_Chapter Eight: Robb_

As Robb stood on the hill overlooking the Crag, he could not help but feel proud.

His father would not feel proud, not until the war was over at least. But Robb surveyed House Westerling's ancient stronghold and felt a sense of accomplishment. His army had stormed the Crag that night, with Robb himself having rammed through the main gate. Smalljon Umber, Black Walder Frey, and the Blackfish had scaled the walls and the castellan, Ser Rolph Spicer, had surrendered at once. Robb's felt happy as his men cheered.

"The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North!"

But only one thought was firmly stuck in Robb's mind once the triumphant cheers subsided. _I'm coming for you, Lord Tywin._

As they marched south towards Lannisport and Casterly Rock, the Blackfish asked Robb what the reason for his sudden desire was to take the Lannister stronghold. Robb hadn't really thought about it; his ultimate goal had always been to take Casterly Rock and draw Tywin Lannister away from King's Landing long enough for Stannis Baratheon to take the city. Break the Lannisters' power and force them to submit. But why now?

Robb had been thinking all the way from Storm's End to Riverrun; no easy task when Lannister and Baratheon soldiers would no doubt be looking to capture him. He had caught up with Maege Mormont and the Greatjon near Stoney Sept. But he had managed to think, even with their questioning of what had happened to the alliance with Renly. He thought long and hard about the fracture of Renly's forces and how the storm lords would go to Stannis, but the Reachmen…

_I should have stayed and formed an alliance with Mace Tyrell. Or Randyll Tarly. I shouldn't have just run._

More so than a political alliance for strength, Robb thought about Margaery, and how she would be used a chip to solidify the Tyrells' new alliance. He should have offered himself. With the power of Highgarden and the Reach behind him, taking Casterly Rock would have been easy. But instead, he ran.

The Young Wolf resolved to keep fighting. He had met up with his army at Oxcross upon departing Riverrun and took his full strength to Ashemark, forcing Lord Damon Marbrand to surrender. Then, before the men could relax and enjoy their victory, he had stormed the Crag. With every battle, with every swing of his sword, Robb convinced himself that he was fighting for his father's memory, for his sisters held by the Lannisters, for his brothers and home held by the Greyjoys.

But Margaery Tyrell's face kept swimming to the forefront of his mind. And every time Robb took the field, her face was right alongside that of his family's. No matter how many times Robb tried to forget, it would not work long. The way she made him feel just by being close. Her beautiful face, her musical laughter, her enticing smile, and most of all, the warm feeling of her lips on his. She was always on his mind.

So when the Blackfish asked, Robb had done the natural thing. He lied.

"Uncle, I am fighting for the North. For the Riverlands. For Houses Stark and Tully and all of the houses sworn to me. The Lannisters will pay for their crimes. They're fond of reminding everyone that they pay their debts. Well, I am coming to collect."

The Blackfish laughed. "Spoken like a true king, Your Grace."

Their army camped about a hundred leagues from the Crag; a good day's march. Robb called a war council with his lords to discuss their plan of attack.

"So Casterly Rock and Lannisport are less than a mile apart. The soldiers protect both strongholds, and if we attack either, the men of the other shall come to defend," said Robb.

Rickard Karstark examined the map of the Westerlands. "So we attack both simultaneously."

The Greatjon nodded. "Pull another Whispering Wood, Your Grace. Split the host, send one around to take Lannisport while the other takes down the Rock at the same time."

The Blackfish shook his head. "That won't work. We would need ships to take Lannisport. If we come by land, we'll be caught between Lannisport and the Rock."

"Perhaps an attack by sea. Lord Mallister, how many ships are in your fleet at Seagard?"

Jason Mallister looked thoughtful. "The ships of Seagard are used to repel the ironborn from our shores. Two war galleys and half a dozen longships. I could have them sent down to us and we can use them to sail."

The other lords nodded their approval at that, but Robb was wary. "Lannisport is the port of the Lannister's fleet. Your ships will not be enough."

Tytos Blackwood looked up. "Our men are not enough. Lannisport is defended by 10,000 Lannister soldiers. The Rock by 15,000. They slightly outnumber us and are better provisioned. It has long been said that the City Watch of Lannisport is better trained than their counterparts in King's Landing. We should head back east and take more castles and gold mines. Hire sellswords before marching on Casterly Rock and Lannisport."

The Greatjon scowled. "We Northmen are twice the warriors these southron soldiers are. I say, march. Let them see the power of the North with their own fucking eyes. Take them both at once, Your Grace!"

Robb scratched his chin. A plan was slowly starting to take place in his mind. _A two-front war they cannot win. Tywin Lannister knows it. Take Lannisport from the sea…_ "Perhaps a diversion is necessary. Lord Mallister, how soon can your ships sail to Lannisport?"

The Lord of Seagard thought a moment. "Six days, Your Grace. Five with the wind."

Robb nodded. "Alright, my lords. Here's what we shall do." Robb explained the plan for the next hour, feeling more and more confident as he talked. He could see the confidence reflected in his men's faces too as they nodded along.

"And then we shall have Casterly Rock and Tywin Lannister on his knees!" finished Robb. The men gave a cheer and rousing rendition of "The King in the North!" At last, the cheers quieted, and Robb dismissed them, hoping to get some sleep himself.

That went out the window when his mother walked in.

"What is it, Mother?"

"Robb, there's been a message from the east. Tywin Lannister has left Harrenhal." _He's coming for us. If he catches us between the Rock and him…_ "Don't worry. He's not coming for us."

"That gives me great cause for worry. Where is he?" asked Robb.

"He's marched on King's Landing. The Imp held the capital against Stannis Baratheon, but Tywin's army joined forces with the Tyrells' and they sailed down the river to take Stannis in the rear at the Battle of the Blackwater."

_Oh, fuck. _"Stannis is dead?"

"I don't think so. But his army is broken for sure. And we have my brother to thank for it."

"Your brother?"

The Blackfish stepped forward. "My nephew stopped Lord Tywin on the Red Fork, allowing news of a Lannister-Tyrell alliance to reach his ears from riders out of the Reach. He turned his host around and sailed down the river in time to defeat Stannis." He grimaced. "All because my nephew got all jumped up and decided to push Tywin back. Had he let him cross the river, the word would not have reached Lord Tywin, and Stannis would control the capital now."

Robb cursed silently. "With Stannis defeated, Tywin and his new army will turn their attention to us. We'll be just sitting here, waiting for him lest we do something now."

"Robb, I beg you, reconsider the battle. We do not have the manpower to take Lannisport and Casterly Rock just yet. There is a great chance we will lose. Even if we win, Tywin Lannister will march here and kill us all. Retreat back north and take Moat Cailin back from Victarion Greyjoy." Robb heard the pleas in his mother's voice. He wanted to do what she asked, like a good son would. But he also had a duty as King in the North. _I cannot retreat. For Father. For Sansa and Arya. For Bran and Rickon. I must go forward, not back._

"We will take the Rock, Lannisport, and cut off Lord Tywin's power. With the gold in Casterly Rock, we can buy swords. Forge new alliances. Take the fight to him."

"With the Tyrells beside the Lannisters, you do not have a chance," begged Catelyn. "If you do this, the queen will take it out on the girls, I know it."

The Blackfish gently held Catelyn. "I know it's hard, Cat. But there is no other way. With the Rock in hand, other houses might come to him. Lysa might see her chance and send the Knights of the Vale. Or Doran Martell might spot his opportunity to get revenge on Tywin and send the Dornish army. But we can't retreat now."

Catelyn shook her head. "I pray for my children. I hope you will too." And with that, she left.

"I'll talk to her," said the Blackfish, hurrying after her.

They broke camp and marched the next day. Jason Mallister had sent word to Seagard to have his ships sent down to Lannisport, which meant they only had five, at best six days to reach there. When it came time for the split, Robb gave command of the splinter force to Rickard Karstark. The Lord of Karhold was desperate to see dead Lannisters, and the Kingslayer, whom Robb had brought along in his chains, was visible to him every day. Sending him away from Jaime Lannister for a spell would be a good thing.

The days were long, and they could only rest for short periods of time. They marched through the day and long into the night. Often, Robb was so tired, his legs had turned to jelly. But the thought of his father, his siblings, and Margaery Tyrell sustained him. He did not know why he still thought of her. By now, she was probably betrothed to some Lannister as a reward for her father's army joining the Lannisters'. But still, she remained in his thoughts as he trudged down the Westerlands' coast with his army and Grey Wind.

Of all his forces, only Grey Wind seemed to be in a good mood. Robb had told the direwolf to race ahead and take out any Lannister scouts. Grey Wind was more than up for the task and often returned to Robb with his mouth stained red and an overall pleased look about him.

At last, they reached a spot two leagues away from Casterly Rock. Robb was pleased to see that the closer they got to the ancient stronghold of House Lannister, the stronger the men seemed to become. The sun was setting fast, and the ravens they had used to converse with the Karstarks and the Mallister ships indicated that everything was in place. _The only thing left is time._

Robb took a final stroll around his camp, praising his soldiers and mentally preparing for the battle to come. His wanderings took him to the Kingslayer's pen, where Jaime Lannister was locked up. The Kingslayer's eyes immediately took notice when Robb approached for a quick chat.

"Ah, the King in the North. I so thank you for returning me to my home. No need to trouble yourself further, I can take it from here, thanks."

Robb smiled. "You know where we are, Kingslayer. You know what is about to happen, so I'll be brief. I am going to make you watch as I take your home from you."

Jaime shot a smirk right back. "I wish you luck. The Rock has never been taken. And I don't think you have the men to even try. You're walking into a slaughter."

"That's what you and your father thought when I raced to capture you at Riverrun."

Jaime shrugged. "You got lucky with a craven's trick. My father isn't a fool to fall for the same trick twice. You think he's just left his home undefended?"

Robb shook his head. "Your father is on the other side of Westeros, trying to keep your bastard son's arse on the Iron Throne. He can't help you now. A lesson for you Lannisters: Winter has come for you."

At that, Robb turned to leave, but Jaime called out, "You aren't a conqueror, boy! You're just a child a long way from home. If you ever want to see it again, you'll leave now while you still can!" The chains binding Jaime rattled as he strained against them, but Robb ignored his taunts and rattling as he stepped back.

Robb looked at the guard on duty, Ser Marq Piper, who was still slightly sore from the Crag and would serve better as a guard for this battle than fighting. "When we take the Rock, I want you to take command of the Kingslayer and have him watch our victory."

Ser Marq bowed. "Of course, Your Grace. It would be an honor."

Returning to his tent, Robb had his squire, Olyvar Frey, armor him up. Despite his confidence in his plan, Robb still felt a sense of dread and apprehension. _Stop it, you're just letting the Kingslayer get to you. _

Before he saddled up, Robb caught sight of his mother. Catelyn Stark stood solemn at her tent, staring at him. He walked over to her, but she was not meeting his gaze.

"Mother, we are heading out now."

"Oh, my son, I wished you would listen to me. But you are a man grown with your life ahead of you. You aren't like to take advice from me much longer. In decisions, in war, in love…" Catelyn now looked at Robb in the eyes, as if she was trying to see his reaction to her statement. Robb was bemused. _She's distraught over Bran and Rickon, that's all._

"I do listen to you, Mother. Once I have Tywin Lannister on his knees, I shall march back home where Bolton's bastard will have Bran and Rickon safe and Theon in chains."

Catelyn shook her head. "You best be going. Your men await your command. Just…be safe, Robb."

"That I can promise," said Robb as he kissed her forehead. He turned and jumped into his saddle. Taking a deep breath and headed out on his mount. Grey Wind ran beside him as they raced for Casterly Rock. "For Winterfell! For the North!" he shouted as the men marched behind him, taking up the call.

When they got there, it was the dead of night. They could make out Casterly Rock's features emblazoned in black against the night sky. Up close, Robb could see why the Rock had never been taken. It looked like it was nearly two leagues long and seemed higher than the Wall. _This castle is even larger than Winterfell or Riverrun put together. _As they stopped behind the largest hill, sheltering their army from any sentries in darkness, Robb could feel the doubt and worry creeping again. But then he remembered what Theon had said when he had first called the banners of the North to war, back before Theon had betrayed him:

"_You afraid?" asked Theon._

_Robb stared down at his hand, which was trembling. "I must be."_

"_Good," replied Theon._

"_Why is that good?"_

"_Because it means you're not stupid."_

Robb took a deep breath and turned to his forces. "Remember. We do not move until the defenders come out. If we run into increased resistance, that information from the prisoners at the Crag should come in handy.

The Greatjon spoke louder. "Time to make those shits pay for every time they looked down at everyone else. Make corpses of their men and make them shit with fear! For the North!" The men once again cheered, but quietly subsided. Robb once again pictured his family: his father, his brothers, his sisters. _I do this for our family. _And once again, standing there with them was Margaery. _No point in denying to myself. And for you, my lady. And for you._

The minutes lengthened. Grey Wind growled impatiently but remained where he was. Robb listened apprehensively. _Come on, come on. The raven should have gotten there by now._ But the castle remained silent…for a long time…until finally…

There was a commotion at the main gates of Casterly Rock. Robb strained his neck to see. The gates were open, and men were racing around, hoisting banners and yelling in the torchlight. The scramble could only mean one thing: Lannisport was under attack. Robb listened in the distance. Indeed, there did seem to be increased noise coming from the direction of Lannisport, which meant that Lord Karstark had engaged the port city.

"Men! To arms!" shouted Robb. The soldiers of the Rock were starting to spill out. "Winterfell!" yelled the Young Wolf. Grey Wind sprinted forward, leading the charge as the armies of the North and the Riverlands fell upon the garrison of Casterly Rock. Robb rode over the hill, Grey Wind at his side, closing the distance between his army and the Lannisters'…five hundred feet…three hundred…a hundred…

And then the world fell into pandemonium.

Robb swung his sword at everything in his path. Grey Wind was impossible to keep track of; the direwolf would be biting the neck of one soldier one instant and would be nipping the heels of another on the other side of the formation the next. Beside Robb, the Greatjon was swinging his longsword, bellowing obscenities and slashing at every Lannister soldier in his path.

"Fuck the Lannisters! For the North!" roared the Greatjon.

On Robb's right, Tytos Blackwood and his men were fighting more controlled, but just as viciously as the Greatjon. The other lords of the North and the Riverlands fought with vigor, each desperate to make their mark on the Lannisters' home. Yet it was no longer easy; the garrison had recovered from its shock at the sudden attack of the Northern army and had begun their defense.

"Stand to!" called the archers on the Rock. Arrows were sailing down on their heads, but Robb miraculously remained unscathed. He slew three soldiers across the chest at once and then crossed swords with a better trained man. But Robb was better; he sidestepped, jabbed at the man's wrist, and when he backed up, Robb stabbed him in the stomach.

The Northmen slowly advanced, but even with their success in killing the soldiers, the gate was closing rapidly. There wasn't enough time to get the army inside. The ladders were being propped against the walls, but the garrison was flinging rocks down upon the ascenders. There was little chance of a successful scale. Without his secret weapon, Robb would have been disheartened to see the gate closing. It would have meant failure. But Robb was prepared. It was time to use a secret they had learned at the Crag.

When Robb had stormed the Crag, some of the prisoners had offered up information for their lives. Most of it was trite, but there were some interesting facts. One prisoner happened to be an old acquaintance of Tyrion Lannister. As it turned out, for his sixteenth nameday, Tyrion had been gifted with the position of overseeing the sewer system at Casterly Rock. The prisoner Robb had was one of the boys who was friends with the Imp at the time.

Tyrion was the kind of man who liked to keep company with those his family turned their noses up at. Robb recalled the Imp from his visits to Winterfell. He had gone out of his way to help Bran find a way to ride again after his accident and was the first of the Lannister siblings to offer his condolences after the accident. He couldn't imagine Tywin, the queen, or the Kingslayer doing such things. Which is why when the man offered up the information, Robb had believed it to be true.

Beneath Casterly Rock was an intricate sewer system, and to sneak his whores and lowborn friends such as Robb's prisoner into the castle, Tyrion had built a secret passageway extending from the Sunset Sea right up into the castle, behind the soldiers.

"Blackfish, Greatjon, Ser Wendel," commanded Robb. "To the sea!"

Robb's small force slowly made their retreat, down the Rock towards sea level. Robb hoped that the prisoner was not lying about the passageway. _Come on, come on. Do not let this be a cruel trick._

But the passageway was indeed there. The opening was in an out of the way cove by the sea, where ships could not sail. _If I did not know it was there, I would have overlooked it entirely. The _passage flowed inside the Rock itself. It was a narrow opening; they would have to go one at a time. _But it exists._

Robb led the way, going one at a time through the passageway. It was damp and impossible to see farther than two feet ahead., even with torch light. In single file formation, Robb climbed and walked and climbed and walked through the sewers and eventually came to the ladder leading higher up than any other.

Robb moved the concrete slab up and out of the way and emerged in a small bedchamber. No doubt it belonged to Tyrion Lannister. There was a tiny bed against one wall and a large bookshelf against another. The Blackfish clambered up after him.

"The Imp's chambers? Not bad."

"We should thank him for providing us with our path to victory," laughed Robb.

Once his men and small team were all up from the sewers, they emerged into the hall. It was completely deserted, with not a soul to be seen. The sounds of the battle were echoing off the walls, and by the yells that were loudest, the Lannister army was winning.

"Too many," grimaced Ser Wendel.

"We're attacking from behind. It may be craven to some, but it's how we shall win. Surprise them from behind, open the gate to let the vanguard through, and take the castle," commanded Robb. _Simple enough. But we have to fight our way through the main force to do so._

But Robb's fears were unfounded. All of the Lannisters were posted at the main gate. Their response to race to the defense of Lannisport had them all gathered in one location. A few guards saw them, but Robb silenced them all before they could yell for help. As they proceeded, Robb realized how much he missed Grey Wind. The direwolf was outside, giving the impression to the garrison that Robb was also still out there. But Robb missed his friend; he could've used him to take all these men from behind had he come up with them.

At last they reached the side gate, where, if the plan had gone accordingly, the bulk of the men had made their way to. Robb was not disappointed by his men; they spilled into the castle the moment he opened the gate. Robb spun on his heels and led them through the empty courtyard. The men raced through the castle towards the main gate.

"Hey! Behind you!" came a yell. But that was all Robb registered as the two forces finally clashed. The Northerners slashed and hacked their way forward, and the Lannister garrison, obviously relying on superior numbers rather than skill, began to crumble. They clearly had never dreamed an assault on Casterly Rock would get this far. Robb crossed sword to spear of the nearest group of soldiers. Each man he killed he envisioned being the one who killed his lord father. _Take that, and that. For Eddard Stark! For Winterfell! For House Stark! For the North! You will never hurt those I care about!_

The Lannister force began to dwindle. Robb slit the throat of the soldier he was fighting and pushed his way to the closed gates. "Blackfish, help me get the gate open!"

The Blackfish was there in an instant and helped Robb remove the barricade on the gate while Ser Merrett Frey standing guard over them, blindly swinging at anyone that happened to come near. The gates swung open, and the rest of the army spilled in.

"Come on! Take the Rock!" yelled Robb to his men.

They surged through the gates and quickly dismantled the Lannisters. The Brackens and the Blackwoods, fierce rivals, stood side by side as they drove their swords and spears into the chests of the Lannisters. The Greatjon, Maege Mormont, Ser Wendel, they all fought vigorously, and the Lannisters were breaking under the pressure.

Robb turned to his uncle, who was just finishing off a Lannister soldier. "To the battlements!"

Robb, the Blackfish, and a few others hurried up the steps to take out the archers. On the battlements, Robb led the way and killed every man that was foolish enough to come near him until there was only one man left.

From the way he was dressed, Robb assumed him to be the castellan of the Rock. He had the traditional golden hair and green eyes of the Lannisters, not to mention that he disliked the man the moment he laid eyes on him. Grey Wind bounded up the steps beside him and began to growl.

"Robb Stark. The Young Wolf himself," snapped the man, readying his sword.

"I'm at a loss, ser. You know who I am, yet I cannot say the same."

"Ser Damion Lannister. I am the Castellan of Casterly Rock. I'll say my say, Stark. I know that you have Ser Jaime as your captive. Return him to me, surrender yourself to me, and I shall allow your lords to return home unscathed."

"I reject your terms, ser," smiled Robb. "You are in no position to make demands. Your lord will not be happy, I imagine, to learn of your failure. Surrender the castle or die."

"If I surrender to you, Lord Tywin will have my head," retorted Ser Damion.

"Then it seems your fate is sealed. Lord Tywin will have your head and make you perish slowly and painfully. I'll grant you a quick death, an honorable death, with your sword in hand."

Ser Damion narrowed his eyes. Robb knew he was listening to the battle raging in the courtyard and had realized it was lost. At last, he hefted his sword and bellowed, "Casterly Rock!"

Robb ducked his initial swing and stabbed the castellan in the heart with his sword point. The man gave an odd gasp before falling to his knees and then onto his back.

The King in the North watched him for a moment, then turned to his men. The sounds of the battle were dying down. "Spread out, make sure there aren't any more men within these walls. Send a rider to Lannisport, I want to know what's happened."

Ser Wendel Manderly grinned as he stepped forward. He had a cut on his cheek and was sweaty from effort, but he looked like he was having the time of his life. "Your Grace, men have arrived with tidings of victory. Our men have triumphed. Lord Karstark and his forces took the men as the Mallisters' ships distracted them from the harbor, just as you predicted. Without the support of the garrison at Casterly Rock, they fell. Lannisport and Casterly Rock are ours!"

Robb felt a grin spread over his face. He walked the battlements and looked at the survivors of the battle, who cheered when they saw him. The battle was over. The Greatjon was there, as was Maege Mormont, Merrett Frey, Smalljon Umber, Galbart Glover, Jonos Bracken, Tytos Blackwood, and so many others. They were all cheering at their victory. Robb gazed at them and saw that Ser Marq Piper had come to join the celebration. The knight had the Kingslayer chained at his feet and a gag in his mouth. The pure look of loathing in Jaime's eyes made Robb feel giddy. _Winter came for you._

"The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North!"

The Blackfish took up the chant before leaning over to Robb. "The Rock is yours, Your Grace." _Yes, it is. My father would be proud, as would my sisters, my brothers…and Margaery. I did it for all of you._

"What are your orders now, Your Grace?" asked the Blackfish.

Robb hadn't given much thought to what he would do once he had Casterly Rock. But when posed with the question, the Young Wolf gave a simple command. "Empty the gold from the vaults."

* * *

**Author's Note: I do read all of your reviews, and I thank those of you for your feedback. Please continue to favorite, follow, and review.**


	9. Chapter 9: Margaery

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait between updates, guys. Real life can seriously intrude sometimes. With regards to the story, onward!**

* * *

_Chapter Nine: Margaery_

Margaery would have given anything in the world to be anywhere but King's Landing when the screams began.

Margaery had watched the tail end of the Battle of the Blackwater from her carriage behind the vanguard alongside Littlefinger at the outskirts of the capital. As she saw the quick and easy way her brothers dismantled Stannis Baratheon's army, she couldn't help but think that he had gotten what he deserved.

_You foul man. May the Stranger plant his kiss upon you for a thousand years for slaying your own brother. For taking my husband, my brother's lover. _

The ride downstream had been pleasant enough, but everyone had been worried if the garrison at King's Landing would hold out long enough for them to get there. Then, barely a mile from the capital, they had seen the green explosion.

Margaery had known immediately what it was but hoped that Stannis was unscathed so that her brother could exact his revenge personally. _Please let him have lived. Let Loras take what is owed to him. _She hoped that many escaped the wildfire devastation, for no one deserved such a cruel fate. But the screams that echoed for miles betrayed that notion. The wails and the green hue of light that was emitting from Blackwater Bay left no doubt that many men had succumbed to the horrific demise. The sounds were so atrocious that she was becoming sick to her stomach. To cope, Margaery tried to envision herself someplace else.

_I'm back at Highgarden, where everyone is kind and chivalrous. No one burns to death at Highgarden. Screams of this sort of horror are never heard. I'm back at Highgarden…_

She was not disappointed with regards to Stannis, for the scouts said that the battle still raged, and Stannis still lived. So Margaery watched the last moments of the battle, observing the ease with which the Lannister-Tyrell forces cut through the Baratheon army. But when her father came to retrieve her after the battle was done, he had announced that Stannis had slipped away.

Margaery was disappointed, more so for Loras, who had been denied his vengeance. But her father insisted it was only a matter of time before they caught Stannis.

Margaery slept in the carriage, for the chaos in King's Landing made getting into the city impossible. As she readied herself for bed, Loras had come in to speak with her.

"Tomorrow, sister. The king will reward all who came to his aid in his hour of need, and I shall ask him to take your hand in marriage."

"I cannot wait to profess my love for the king in person," replied Margaery.

Loras kissed her forehead. "Sleep now, sweet sister. For when you wake tomorrow, your dreams will be just an afternoon away from being realized."

Margaery nodded, but posed the question she had had since Father had come to tell her what had happened. "Will you pursue Stannis?"

Loras' face twisted into a scowl; it did not suit him. "With the king's leave. No doubt he shall retreat to Dragonstone or Storm's End. I will pursue him to the ends of the world and make him pay." Loras took a deep breath and collected himself. "Please, do not concern yourself with mine vengeance. It is my burden to bear, not yours. Now, go to sleep, sister."

Margaery did, but her dream was an odd one. She dreamt a wolf and a lion were fighting over a rose. The wolf nuzzled the rose gingerly, but the lion roared and took it away. The wolf howled in pain but did not attack back right away. Instead it climbed on top of a rock and tackled the lion from the air. The lion then viciously snapped at the wolf's throat, dropping the rose, but the wolf barely evaded the lion, getting injured in the process. The lion went to retrieve the rose, but it had fallen into the jaws of the injured wolf, which now stood and attacked again…

She wanted to call out to the wolf, tell it to run, for it was too hurt to continue fighting. The lion advanced, roaring louder and louder, and the wolf seemed done for…_Run, please, run…_

"My lady, wake up."

Margaery woke with a start. Her cousin Elinor was gently shaking her. "My lady, you sounded like you were having a bad dream. Perhaps tonight you should take some essence of nightshade or some dreamwine?"

"It's fine. I think I am just a bit tired from all of the travel." Margaery smiled sweetly. The dream had already faded from her memory. "Is it time for an audience with the king?"

"Very nearly. It's all been planned out, my lady. The king will lightly protest the betrothal in favor of his current betrothed, but he will give in. I heard your brothers speaking of it with Lord Baelish."

"Well, then, let's not keep the king waiting." Margaery dressed in a light green dress with gold trim to show off the Tyrell colors. _Time to do my duty._

The Tyrell cavalcade made their way into the city, which rejoiced at the sight of them. The smallfolk called out for them, for her. It should have brought a smile to Margaery's face, but she felt nothing. A war of emotions raged in her head as they paraded their way to the Red Keep. She was happy that they had won the battle and beaten back Stannis. But she was sorrowful that they were now allied with the Lannisters. She was overjoyed to finally be the queen, but at the same time anxious about the rumors that swirled about Joffrey.

_I wonder if he truly is as cruel as they say. Oh, that would be perfect, wouldn't it? Married twice before I am seven and ten, once to a man who prefers the company of my brother and again to a boy who they say is crueler than the Mad King. _

All of these emotions warred in Margaery's head, creating a very passive look about her as they rode through the Red Keep and into the throne room.

Inside, Joffrey Baratheon was holding court from atop the Iron Throne. It did not look like it was forged from a thousand blades, perhaps two hundred. But Margaery was more interested in the people around the Iron Throne. Joffrey looked exactly like she had heard; golden hair and emerald eyes, and pouty lips. A haughty expression was donned on his face.

To his right stood Queen Cersei Lannister. A female version of Joffrey, she had the exact same features, right down to the haughty expression. _I hope I do not look like that when I sit beside the king._

Margaery let her gaze wander as Tywin Lannister rode in on his horse. She listened with one ear as Joffrey named his grandfather the Savior of the City and the Hand of the King. _I thought his uncle, the Imp, was the Hand? _As Joffrey next lauded Littlefinger for brokering the alliance between House Lannister and House Tyrell, Margaery spotted a girl with red hair up on a balcony watching apprehensively. The girl alone was the only one who looked unhappy in the entire throne room. In fact, she seemed to be close to tears.

_I wonder why that girl is so sad. I've never seen anyone look so miserable. _It made Margaery want to cheer her up somehow.

"I declare that you shall be granted the castle of Harrenhal, with all its attended lands and incomes, to be held by your sons and grandsons, from this day until the end of time!" finished Joffrey.

"You honor me beyond words, Your Grace," flattered Littlefinger. "I shall have to acquire some sons and grandsons." The laughter spread through the hall at Littlefinger's quip. Margaery instead looked around. The girl with the red hair looked even sadder at Littlefinger's success, and the man Grandmother had warned her about specifically, the Master of Whisperers, Varys, was frowning deeply. _How odd._

Finally, Joffrey called forth the name she was expecting. "Ser Loras Tyrell!"

Loras gave Margaery's hand a squeeze before he walked to the foot of the steps of the Iron Throne and knelt.

"Your house has come to our aid. The whole realm is in your debt, none more so than I." Margaery could tell that Joffrey did not really believe the words he was saying. What he was really saying was, '_You finally came and delivered unto me what was due of your house.'_ If she could tell within minutes of seeing him for the first time, it meant that he had no idea how to play the part that was expected of him. _He can be manipulated. Hmm…_

"If your family would ask anything of me, ask it, and it shall be yours." _Here we go. Play the part. _

"Your Grace, my sister Margaery, her husband was taken from us before." Loras did not elaborate, probably because it would not be prudent to remind Joffrey that she was previously married to a man who tried to steal his throne. Or perhaps the pain of Renly was too much for him to bear whilst Stannis still breathed air. "She remains innocent. I would ask that you find it within your heart and do us the great honor of joining our houses." _Play the part._

"Is this what you want, Lady Margaery?" asked Joffrey, looking at Margaery for the first time.

Margaery stepped forward, smiling her best smile. "With all my heart, Your Grace. I have come to love you from afar. The tales of your courage and wisdom have never been far from my ears. And those tales have taken root deep inside of me." Margaery rattled off the words that were expected of her, but she found that they came rather easily. For when she looked at Joffrey, she had mentally replaced him with the person of whose tales of courage and wisdom were often heard of. The man whose tales she _had_ kept within her heart.

When Margaery Tyrell looked at the king on the throne, it was not Joffrey Baratheon she saw, but Robb Stark, the King in the North. The only thing that ruined the illusion she crafted for herself was the voice.

"I too have heard tales of your beauty and grace. But tales do not do you justice, my lady. It would be an honor to return your love. But I am promised to another. A king must keep his word."

Cersei leaned over right on cue. "Your Grace, in the judgment of your small council, it would be neither proper nor wise for you to wed the daughter of a man beheaded for treason. A girl whose brother is in open rebellion against the throne as we speak. For the good of the realm," she enunciated for dramatic effect, "your councilors beg you…"

Cersei had paused again, and this time she had looked away from Joffrey up to the balcony, directly at the red-haired girl. "To set Sansa Stark aside."

The throne room broke out in murmurs. Margaery gazed up at Sansa. Now she understood why the girl looked so unhappy. _She is the Lannisters' captive for Robb's war. She's a prisoner in all but name._ Margaery made a mental decision right then and there. She was Robb's sister, and she was suffering. It would not be right to leave her at the hands of such tormentors. _I must help her somehow. _

Joffrey stood up. "I would like to heed your wishes and the wishes of my people. But I took a holy vow." _Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps he _can_ play along when necessary._

The Grand Maester spoke up. "Your Grace, the gods do indeed hold betrothals solemn. But your father, blessed be his memory, made this pact before the Starks revealed their falseness."

Margaery did not know how she kept her temper. _How dare that old man say that the Starks were false! _If anyone here was false, it was Joffrey-called-Baratheon. But it was expected of her to be betrothed to the king. So she said nothing. Instead she watched the players. Sansa, who had initially looked shocked, now looked appalled again. Cersei was still watching Sansa.

"I have consulted with the High Septon, and he assures me that their crimes against the realm free you from any promise you have made to them. In the sight of the gods," said Grand Maester Pycelle.

Margaery watched Joffrey's face as he became convinced he had played his part enough. "The gods are good!" announced the boy king. "I am free to heed my heart. Ser Loras, I will gladly wed your sweet sister." He looked at Margaery hungrily. "You will be my queen, and I will love you from this day until my last day!"

Margaery beamed dutifully, but as the throne room burst into applause, she continued to watch. Sansa was turning away from the balcony, but Margaery could swear she could see the ghost of a smile curving her lips as she spun around.

The rest of the day, Margaery found herself attended to by well-wishers. They fawned over her, saying how she was obviously the most beautiful girl in the Seven Kingdoms and how she was clearly meant to marry the king. _If only the king I was marrying was Robb Stark instead of Joffrey Baratheon. _At long last, she made her way to her chambers and retired for the night, with only her cousin Elinor attending her.

"Congratulations, my lady! You will be the queen, in truth this time!"

Margaery smiled the same smile she had been smiling all day. "Thank you, cousin. And we are alone now, you don't have to say 'my lady' when we aren't out and about. As for being the queen…I cannot wait to pledge my love to the king in sight of the gods. It will truly be a spectacular event."

Elinor raised an eyebrow. "The king is so handsome, but you make him look like a Dornishman in comparison. Was it love at first sight?"

"I do not think it is love yet. Certainly, I will do my best to come to love him in time, but I do not think we are in love yet." Margaery paused, remembering what Grandmother had said just before they had departed Highgarden. _The walls have ears._

"But I am sure that we will be in love once we are married in the light of the Seven," finished Margaery.

Elinor beamed. "You know, the people of the capital will love you just as the king does. They already cry out your name. You will be more loved than the king, I know it."

"Hmm, I wonder if that will be too difficult?" pondered Margaery quietly. "I've heard tales that the king can be cruel sometimes. Vicious, even. Did you see the girl he was betrothed to in the throne room? Sansa Stark, she looked ever so sad."

"That's because her brother is a traitor, an enemy of the king. Didn't you meet him when you were married to Renly?" A dreamy look overcame Elinor's face. _I've lost her_, thought Margaery, knowing her cousin was daydreaming about Renly again.

"Yes, I met Robb Stark," Margaery said, trying to get Elinor's attention back. "He didn't look like an evil traitor, he looked very handsome and was nothing but courteous towards me." _And his kiss was the most passionate one I'd ever had. But I have a duty to my family. I cannot distract myself with Robb Stark any longer. I am to marry Joffrey, and I must make the best of my situation._

A perturbed look crossed Elinor's face, making Margaery curious. "What is it, cousin?"

"I heard a rumor," Elinor admitted. "Garlan and Loras were talking about it with your father and Lord Tarly. I don't know if its true or not, but if it is, I wouldn't talk about the Starks in such a nice way in King's Landing for a while."

"Oh, Elinor, everyone knows that the Starks keep defeating the Lannisters in the Riverlands and that they've moved into the Westerlands. Before we departed Highgarden, Father received word about it." _After I had Grandmother tell me that he received word._

"Well, I don't think the Lannisters are very happy about him."

"Let's let the men worry about the fighting, dear cousin. We should do something to win the people of the capital over to our side." _Should we have to sever ties with the Lannisters, it would do to have the support of the smallfolk._

"Well," said Elinor, beaming brightly, "they've been starving ever since Highgarden cut off food supply to King's Landing. Did you hear that the king and his family were caught in that riot three moons past?"

"Yes, I heard about that. The poor children must be starving in this city. Highgarden should replenish the food, but more than that, Elinor. We must show them our compassion and win them over. If Joffrey and the Lannisters are as cruel as they say, we must show them kindness so that they may do the same unto us."

Margaery went to sleep, and once more had the wolf and lion dream, complete with the rose. But this time was different. When the wolf got injured avoiding the lion's bite, the rose in the lion's mouth pricked him with its thorns before falling beside the wolf. The lion roared in pain and fell, while the wolf slowly stood up. The lion lay dead, while the wolf howled, but in pain or in victory, Margaery did not know.

But once she awoke, Margaery forgot all about the dream, and set about preparing for the day. She donned a blue gown for her visit to the Great Sept of Baelor with the king, to formally swear their betrothal in sight of the gods.

The swearing of the vows went exactly as planned, and in no time, Margaery and Joffrey were heading back to the Red Keep in their palanquins. Margaery could hear the cheers of the smallfolk as she passed. She could sense their desperation for peace and prosperity but knew that they would never have that under the Lannisters. The least she could do was soothe and comfort them. _I will be their queen. They need to know that I care about the wellbeing of all, not just the noblemen. But how to show that…_

The answer came as they rounded a corner in Flea Bottom, the poorest district in King's Landing. When Margaery laid eyes on it, she remembered something the High Septon had told her about earlier and she knew what she could do.

"Sers, if you would be so kind as to halt. I fancy a stroll and stretch my legs."

"Halt! Down!" came the cry of the palanquin bearers.

Margaery stepped out on the street and was instantly met with an overwhelming smell of…whatever that was. The people were dirty and sweaty, malnourished and tired. But they immediately turned their eyes to her when she stepped out of her carriage.

"My lady, we should have guards," called her new handmaiden, who had been dutifully provided by the queen.

"Why?" asked Margaery as she came face to face with a tall brute who scowled heavily at her.

Margaery smiled warmly at the man. "Pardon me," she said pleasantly. She continued to stroll down the street as a woman poured some sludge into a puddle in front of her. Margaery walked right on top of it, to the entrance of the building she had spotted.

"Stop, my lady. You'll ruin your dress," insisted her handmaiden.

"I have others," replied Margaery as she walked in.

The orphanage was overcrowded. It was filled to the brim with starving children, for which there was not enough food to go around. There was not enough clean water for them to bathe in, so many children were covered in grime. But the children's wide eyes when she had stepped in were more than enough to make Margaery not care. She had done charitable work back in Highgarden; these children just needed a little bit more love and care than the ones back home.

Margaery sat down on a small chair in front of them and patiently listened to their stories. Some of them had been there for as long as they could remember. Some of them had fathers who went to fight in the Battle of the Blackwater for the king. They never came back. Each story they told made Margaery's heart break. They deserved better. She wanted to help them get better more than anything.

"Bad men wanted to come into this city and do terrible things, but your father stopped them," she said gently to a particularly wide-eyed boy whose father had perished in the battle. Margaery held out a toy knight to the boy. "Whenever you look at this knight, I want you to remember your father."

The boy took the knight tenderly, for it was the greatest gift he had ever received. "But he wasn't a knight," he said. "He was just a soldier."

"And what do knights swear to do?" asked Margaery. "Protect the weak and uphold the good. Your father did that. Be proud of him."

The boy smiled, warming Margaery's heart. The boy reminded her of that girl at Harrenhal whom she recalled was in need of love and care, just as these children were. She turned to another boy. "Was your father a soldier, too?"

The boy nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off Margaery's face. "You should be proud, too." Then she rose her voice, announcing, "Under King Joffrey's leadership, your fathers saved this city. They saved us all. From now on, we're going to take care of you."

She turned back to the first boy. "All of you," she said, gently tracing a finger down his small cheek.

Margaery had a very enjoyable afternoon, as the children played games with her and laughed with her. When it was time for her to leave, the children followed her outside, causing the matron to have to come retrieve them.

"Come to me for whatever you need to feed them, clothe them, or house them," she said to the matron. "Directly to me," she added. _Cersei won't be happy to learn about such a thing. _She kissed the cheek of one girl and took her leave, noticing that Joffrey was staring out of the back of his palanquin intently.

When Margaery returned to her chambers in the Red Keep to change out of her muddy gown, she felt a sense of warmth about her for helping those children. _Grandmother would be proud, for I have made our presence known and loved in the city, and I helped those poor children at the same time. _

She went to supper feeling proud of herself. She was to dine with Joffrey and his mother, while Loras offered to accompany her. "I don't want you to have to dine alone with them," he joked.

Joffrey and Cersei arrived a few minutes late, but Joffrey was courteous. "Please sit, sit. I do apologize, my lady. Small council meetings…at what point does it become treason to waste the king's time," he said. Margaery tensed inside; neither Renly nor Robb Stark would ever say such things, but she laughed to placate the king.

She noticed that Cersei did not seem very happy. _I wonder if she's heard about my visit to the orphanage. _Then she put the thought aside. Of course Cersei knew. It was just a question of whether or not she would bring it up.

"That's a lovely gown, my lady," said Joffrey.

"Yes, it suits you perfectly," said Cersei. "I imagine you might be rather cold."

"The climate back in Highgarden is a bit more forgiving, Your Grace," said Margaery.

"Shall I have them bring you a shawl, my lady?" asked Joffrey. _He's certainly being courteous tonight. Is it because he saw my compassion earlier, or is it a show for his mother?_

"I'm touched by your concern, Your Grace. Luckily for us Tyrells, our blood runs quite warm," she said, with a glance at Loras.

"Yes," agreed her brother.

"Loras, isn't the queen's gown magnificent? The fabric, the embroidery, the metalwork. I've never seen anything like it," she said, trying to thaw the ice that was rapidly solidifying between her and her future goodmother.

Cersei did not relax at Margaery's words. "You might find a bit of armor useful when you become queen. Perhaps before…" she added. "Joffrey tells me you stopped in Flea Bottom on your way back from the sept this morning."

"Yes. I paid a visit to an orphanage the High Septon told me about," replied Margaery. _Careful, don't let her rattle you. Grandmother says courtesy is a woman's armor. _

"Margaery does a great deal of work with the poor back in Highgarden," added Loras.

"The lowest among us are no different from the highest if you give them a chance and approach them with an open heart," continued Margaery.

Cersei's response was quick. "An open heart is what you'll get in Flea Bottom if you're not careful, my dear. Not long ago, we were attacked by a mob there." _Yes, of course, because they're starving, and you refused to feed them. I won't make your mistakes, Cersei._

Cersei continued to talk about the horrors of the day of the riot until Joffrey finally stopped her. "My mother's always had a penchant for drama. Facts become less and less important to her as she grows…older." The insult hung in the air for a second. "Our lives were never truly in danger."

"You're right of course. You are your father's son. We can't all have a king's bravery." Margaery knew what Cersei was referring to. There had been tales that Joffrey had fled the battlefield when Stannis' army approached the gates. The silence lengthened between Joffrey and Cersei, while Margaery sat between them.

"Hunger turns men into beasts," remarked Margaery carefully. "I'm glad House Tyrell has been able to help in this regard. They tell me a hundred wagons arrive daily from the Reach." As Margaery spoke, she noted the guarded smile Cersei wore. _Our family is quickly becoming more valuable to the people than yours is, Your Grace. _

When dinner ended, Margaery retired to her chambers where she saw Elinor, who was clearly bursting with news, but good or bad, Margaery could not say.

"Dear cousin, what is so important?" asked Margaery.

Elinor looked breathless. "I've heard rumors. The news will be all over the city by tomorrow. I wouldn't be surprised if the Hand calls a small council meeting at this late hour because of it."

"What has happened?" whispered Margaery intensely.

"Last night, I was going to tell you that there's talk that Robb Stark was leading the northmen down the Searoad. Well, now there's word going around that the Young Wolf took his entire army and sacked Lannisport _and _Casterly Rock! The Starks took the Lannisters' seat!"

Margaery wordlessly stared at her. The thoughts she had suppressed of Robb Stark once again came roaring back to the surface of her mind. _Robb, you didn't. Oh my…_ It was long known that the Lannisters' castle had never been taken. She knew that Robb's army was in the Westerlands, but she had never expected that he would strike so quickly. A million thoughts ran through her head, mostly about what her father would have to do, what her brothers would have to do, whether Robb was alright or not.

But the one thought that stuck, the one that made her smile, the one that she did not vocalize was, "The wolf has climbed atop the Rock."

* * *

**A/N: So as some reviewers pointed out, we are closely following canon. That will continue till the time of the Red Wedding, where we will get more POV characters and a different ending to this story. Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews! Please continue to do so!**


	10. Chapter 10: Tyrion

_Chapter Ten: Tyrion_

"They have my home."

The brooding, deadly quiet voice of his father made Tyrion Lannister wish he was anywhere but the small council chambers. He remembered how his father had reacted when Jaime had been captured; this was even worse.

It was early morning in King's Landing, and Tyrion, who had been recovering from his injury in battle, had been hastily awakened by Pod at the crack of dawn to inform him that his father was calling the small council.

"At this hour?" griped Tyrion. "What could he possibly have need of me at this hour?"

"I don't know, my lord, but it sounds bad. Something's happened, and your father's furious." Those words should have been enough to make Tyrion want to crawl back under the covers. But it was his father calling, and when Tywin Lannister called, you answered.

So Tyrion, thinking longingly of some bacon and juice for breakfast, had made his way to the small council chambers where his father, uncle Kevan, Mace Tyrell, Pycelle, Littlefinger, Varys, and Cersei were waiting with stony expressions. _Of course I'm the last to arrive. A much more obvious entrance. _But one look on his father's livid, red face was all it took for Tyrion to realize something had seriously gone wrong.

At first, he had thought something had happened to Joffrey. _But no, there would be much more commotion if that had happened. _The only other thing that would make his father this incensed was if someone insulted the family name. And his father's number one enemy at the moment was Robb Stark. _What has he done? Is Jaime alright…or did something else happen?_

Tyrion sat silently, mulling over his father's answer to his unasked question. Apparently, Robb Stark had marched on Casterly Rock, and his father's garrison combined with the City Watch of Lannisport had fallen to the Young Wolf. Tyrion listened as the reports came in, depicting how Robb had sailed the Mallisters' small fleet from Seagard at night to trick the City Watch that he was invading by sea. He had split his host again, and one half attacked Lannisport when they had gotten distracted by the ships. The other half had been set upon Casterly Rock a mile away when the garrison had begun to go to Lannisport's defense. _He's absolutely fucking mad,_ thought Tyrion. Then he realized he didn't know if he meant his father or Robb Stark.

The rest of the small council began to chime in their opinions of what to do about the Starks.

"March on them with the full power of Highgarden and Casterly Rock behind you!" came Mace Tyrell's opinion.

"Sue for peace," said Uncle Kevan. "Trade his sister for Ser Jaime and give the North independence for the Rock back."

"Kill them all. Every man, woman, and child who dares to call Robb Stark king. Kill them all," was Cersei's reasoned and well thought out plan.

"_They have my home!" _bellowed Tywin, in the same manner he had when they had found out Jaime had been captured. "Call the banners. We will take the fight to Robb Stark directly. His Northmen might yell loudly, but large enough numbers ought to quell their roars."

Tyrion rolled his eyes. "I cannot believe you are going to fall for the same trick twice."

That quieted the council. All eyes swerved to Tyrion as Tywin asked calmly, "What do you mean?"

Tyrion sat forward. "Robb Stark is baiting us. He knew that Stannis Baratheon was sailing for the capital and that you would have no choice but to defend King's Landing. You saved Joffrey and the rest of us, but the Stark boy took advantage of your absence to take Ashemark, the Crag, and Casterly Rock itself. Only a fool would attack the Rock without thinking ahead. He knows you will see it as the biggest insult to the family name. He knows you will want to march on him with all your power. By the time you get to the Westerlands, he will have scattered his host and will reform it some hundreds of leagues away, probably at the King's Gate!"

Tywin glared at him. "So you would have me do nothing as Robb Stark sits in my castle. That was my father's before me and his father's before him. Do nothing and let this insult against our family slide?"

The Imp narrowed his eyes. "I did not say that. But marching on him is a mistake. The last time you marched on Robb Stark, he tricked you, freed his grandfather from besiegement, and took my brother prisoner."

Grand Maester Pycelle spoke up. "Lord Tyrion, I understand your caution. But the Starks are in open rebellion against the crown. They have captured the ancestral home of House Lannister. They must be dealt with severely, or other houses will not respect the Iron Throne or the Lannisters."

"Thank you, Grand Maester, for those words of wisdom," snapped Tyrion. "I was going to say that you cannot hope to beat Robb Stark in the field. We've tried and failed. We must try something else."

Tywin stood up from his chair and crossed the room. His face was a mixture of the Lannister colors: angry red face that looked like it was going to burst mixed in with the gold of his hair. The Old Lion stood at the window that overlooked the courtyard, hands behind his back. Tyrion wondered what was going on in that head of his.

"Something else, you say," breathed Tywin. "If the damn ironborn did not have Moat Cailin or if Theon Greyjoy hadn't pulled that insipid stunt, we might have our something else."

That caught Tyrion off-guard. "Theon Greyjoy? What did he do now?"

"The Starks' ward turned on them and captured Winterfell for his father," answered Cersei.

Tyrion rolled his eyes. "We already knew that. He captured the castle two moons past."

Cersei looked smug. "He murdered the two youngest Stark boys. He burned their bodies to a crisp and left them hanging outside the gates."

_No, it cannot be. He would never do something so heinous_. Tyrion remembered Theon Greyjoy. The boy had been a bit full of himself, but he was no child-killer. Certainly he wouldn't display their bodies for the world to see. But Tyrion remembered that Theon was a Greyjoy. Rather than accept defeat in their rebellion, the boy's father had kept going until Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark had brought the full power of Westeros to Pyke. Balon Greyjoy was ruthless and conniving, whereas his son was desperate for acceptance. It probably had been all too easy to convince Theon to turn on the Starks. _Sansa is going to be devastated when she finds out. _

Tywin turned back from the window. "If Theon Greyjoy hadn't murdered his brothers, we could've sent men to capture Winterfell and hold his brothers hostage. Now, all we have is his sister, but he has Jaime, so that's pointless." Tywin's jaw was twitching furiously; Tyrion thought it might fall off. "Lord Tyrell, send a letter to Lord Paxter Redwyne of the Arbor. With the Iron Fleet of the Greyjoys rampant on the Sunset Sea, I don't think Stark would be foolish enough to take the Lannisport fleet but have him patrol just in case. We've been wrong about Stark before, but never again."

Mace Tyrell bowed. "Of course, my lord." The Lord of Highgarden took his leave in a rush. _Probably wants to get as far away from my father as possible._

"We need something to use against Robb Stark. _Anything._ Tyrion is right, meeting us in the field is exactly what he wants, even with our superior numbers. The boy's mind is perfect for warfare; I daresay he could've given Robert a run for his money."

The small council traded glances with one another. Finally, Cersei broke the silence. "Father, why don't you march north. Take Moat Cailin from the ironborn scum and raze the North completely. You taught Lord Reyne a lesson, teach the same one to Robb Stark."

Tywin glared furiously at Cersei. Tyrion thought it was extremely pleasing to see his father look at Cersei that way. "I will not place Robb Stark in the same category as Roger Reyne. The Red Lion of Castamere did not know his place and was stupid enough to revolt against his liege lord. Robb Stark is far more intelligent at the age of six-and-ten than House Reyne ever was. He fights for a noble cause, the execution of his father, which was madness and utterly stupid." His glare at Cersei deepened. "His cause just happens to be a treasonous and a lost one at that." _Father, I never knew you had such respect for Robb Stark._

Cersei recomposed herself. "Then perhaps you should punish his twit of a sister. The girl is our prisoner, Father. You should make use of her. An hour or two with Joffrey, a raven to the Starks informing them of this, and Robb Stark will surrender Jaime and Casterly Rock."

Tyrion scowled heavily. "I will not allow it."

Cersei turned to him. "_You _won't allow it?"

"Yes. Joffrey has tortured this poor girl long enough. I will not allow you or your son to torture Sansa Stark any further. She may be our prisoner, but she is no longer Joffrey's whipping girl."

"We cannot touch the girl so long as Jaime remains a prisoner of the Starks," said Tywin firmly.

Varys, who had been surprisingly quiet, finally spoke up. "My lord, my little birds tell me that Lord Hoster Tully has breathed his last. The gods give him rest. No doubt Robb Stark will return to Riverrun for his grandfather's funeral."

"That doesn't help me. Yes, he'll probably return for the funeral, but he'll be surrounded by nearly twenty thousand swords who have a strategic defensive position. He might have even more swords by then."

Tyrion arched an eyebrow. His stomach was growling, and he wanted to wrap this pointless meeting up. They clearly weren't going to decide anything today.

Tywin must have heard his unspoken pleas. "Clear the room. Lord Baelish, Tyrion, you stay." As the other members left, Tyrion saw Cersei glaring heavily at him. _Well, it's not my fault Father blasted you in front of everyone. Or are you angry because he asked me to stay and you to leave? Ah, sister, so many reasons for you to hate me, which one is it today?_

"We have an additional problem, and I would rather Cersei or Pycelle not hear this," started Tywin.

"Oh, what could be worse than having Robb Stark capturing Casterly Rock and having Jaime prisoner?" asked Tyrion sarcastically.

Tywin scowled. "I would take this more seriously if I were you. The gold mine beneath Casterly Rock dried three years ago. The other mines in the Westerlands have been drying up for years. What we were able to scavenge from the mines…it sits in the Golden Gallery at Casterly Rock."

Tyrion blinked. "So, you're saying…"

"With Robb Stark in control of Casterly Rock, we're broke," said Tywin shortly. "I've been borrowing from the Iron Bank of Braavos for years, lending to the Crown, but the payments were getting steeper. The small amount of gold in Casterly Rock was all we had, and without the Tyrell gold from Highgarden, we had no way to pay back the Crown's debts to the Iron Bank until the betrothal of Margaery Tyrell to Joffrey." He looked at Tyrion. "Which means no more drinking and no more whoring."

_Good thing Shae fucks me for free,_ thought Tyrion. His more pressing concern was Bronn. The newly appointed knight would not be happy to learn Tyrion was broke.

Littlefinger sat forward. "So the Robb Stark situation has become even more dire than we thought."

"Precisely. If the Tyrells were to get wind of this, they would become the most powerful house in the Seven Kingdoms. We would be at their mercy, instead of the other way around. Not to mention that the Iron Bank will send a representative if we do not pay back the money. And if we can't come to an agreement, the Iron Bank will begin funding our enemies. Can you imagine the horror if Stannis Baratheon, Daenerys Targaryen, or Robb Stark have the power of the Iron Bank behind them?"

Tyrion raised his eyebrows at the mention of the Targaryen girl. He got the feeling that Tywin was starting to get concerned with the news of Daenerys Targaryen's dragons, but was remaining focused on the Robb Stark issue at hand.

"The Starks have taken the Rock and by now they know that the wealth of House Lannister is now nonexistent. Word spreads fast in the Seven Kingdoms, and when this does, we will no longer be a house to be feared. Perception is everything, and the Young Wolf can destroy our house with a few choice words now."

"Indeed, few men will be eager to fight for the Lannisters once they know you are broke," said Littlefinger. _I love how you say 'you' rather than 'we'._

"I hate to take sides, Father, but perhaps Uncle Kevan is correct. Sue for peace and give Sansa Stark back to her family in exchange for Jaime. Acknowledge Northern independence and put an end to this war," said Tyrion.

"I will not surrender. Nor will I give Robb Stark what he wants. He takes my family home, insults my name, and you would have me surrender to him? I was prepared to accept _his_ surrender. I thought the Blackwater would decide him, convince him that his cause was now lost. But instead, the impudent Starks take my home!" Tywin slammed his fist on the desk, causing Tyrion to jump. _I think I see where Cersei gets her mood swings. _"I was prepared to let him return to the North with his tail tucked between his legs and let him be Lord of Winterfell after he surrendered, but not now. The knowledge he now has…it will ruin us. He cannot be allowed to live. We need an immediate solution to Robb Stark. How is it that a boy who had never seen combat before this war is beating us?" ranted Tywin.

"You underestimated him too long, and he's throwing it back in your face," supplied Tyrion.

"Do you have a solution, or are you content to throw quips at my face and watch some boy ruin everything I have worked my entire life for?"

"You're asking my advice?" inquired Tyrion. _My nameday must have come early this year._

"I'm asking it of both of you. You two are the most intelligent individuals on the small council. Prove to me that my trust in your intellect is well-placed. Tell me. How do we beat Robb Stark?"

Tyrion relished the desperation in his father's voice. Just yesterday, Tywin had blasted him for asking for the rights to Casterly Rock and labelled him a humiliating abomination sent to punish his father and his family. And now, barely a day later, he was asking for his advice.

Unfortunately, Tyrion had no advice to give. _I must admit, Robb Stark has stumped me as well as my father. Our one piece of leverage is useless and the boy outsmarts us time and time again. _

The silence filled the room. The only thing that broke it was Tyrion's stomach growling louder and louder.

At last, Tywin dismissed him. "Go. Get something to eat. And since you've taken such an interest in protecting Sansa Stark, I want you to know where she is and what's she's doing at all times."

Of course, his father couldn't let him leave without giving him an assignment. Tyrion stood up and walked to the door before realizing Littlefinger hadn't moved.

"Lord Baelish, care to join me? I hate to dine alone on such a fine morning, and you must be starving. There might still be some bacon, you know."

Littlefinger smiled. "No thank you, my lord. I have some additional business to discuss with the Hand. Perhaps another time."

Tyrion nodded and closed the door. But he did not head for the kitchens. His hunger had abruptly abated. He stood outside the closed chamber doors, thinking hard. _What is it that Littlefinger kept silent about until he and my father were alone? _His thoughts landed on Varys. The Master of Whisperers would know everything that had gone on in the small council chambers since he had left the room. How would he know? _His little birds. Where would they be?_

Tyrion looked around, thinking. Those orphans that Varys called his 'little birds' would be listening, no doubt. How would they be listening in the room? His eyes flashed around the hallway until his eyes caught sight of the wall, where a tapestry depicting the lion and stag sigil of House Baratheon of King's Landing hung on the wall.

The tapestry looked so out of place that Tyrion knew what was behind. He stretched his arms as high as they would go and barely brushed the bottom of the tapestry. But he had enough to pull it forward. A small passageway carved in stone lay behind. Too big for a grown man, but perfect for a child…or a dwarf. _I could hear what Littlefinger is so keen to hide from the ears of the small council. _Tyrion jumped up, grasping the edge of the tunnel with his fingers. With great difficulty, he hoisted himself inside.

Tyrion followed the passage and, sure enough, found a small boy sitting a short distance from the entrance. The boy looked up in surprise, but he said nothing. _I've heard that they have their tongues cut before coming into his service. _Tyrion sat beside the boy and listened intently. Sure enough, he could hear Littlefinger and his father as clearly as if they were standing right next to him.

"…is listening, Lord Baelish. Their heads would be on spikes outside the city gates if they were," his father was saying.

"It would not do for the Spider or the queen's spies to overhear this information," replied Littlefinger. "You are certain Lord Tyrion is not listening, my lord?"

"His stomach was growling loudly, and I've never known him to turn down food or drink," came Tywin's reply. "Now, get on with it."

"Very well, Lord Tywin. As you may recall, when I visited you at Harrenhal, I told you I was working on a plan that could help you win this war." Tyrion imagined Littlefinger was looking very smug and important.

"Yes, I remember. You told me that Robb Stark was at Renly Baratheon's camp, where you intended to offer him his sisters for my son. And then you claimed that you had whispers and hearings of notions, and that you could use them to destroy the Starks. Just like every man who serves me says to my face."

"My lord, I had intended to meet the fair Lady Catelyn. I could've made the arrangements, and your son would be back safe and sound. My promises deliver results."

There was a huff, and Tyrion knew that Tywin was losing patience. "If I were you, I would not pine for Catelyn Stark any longer. Your obsession will fast become a problem if you do. Perhaps you might turn your cloak and spy for the Starks."

"I am loyal to the Iron Throne, my lord."

"Hmm. Say your say, then."

"This is quite difficult, my lord…this particular piece of information can be quite damaging. Particularly to your grandson…"

Tyrion envisioned Littlefinger licking his lips with such a juicy piece of information. _Probably thinks my father will give him an even juicier reward than Harrenhal for this. Like Winterfell or Riverrun. _

Littlefinger was still talking. "…and obviously, the Tyrells should not hear a word of this."

There was a silence, both inside the chambers and outside. "You are certain?" was Tywin's reply.

"No, my lord, it was dark, but Lady Margaery was certainly in a hurry to leave the tent." _Wait, what tent? What's he talking about? _Tyrion realized that he had missed the crux of Littlefinger's secret.

"A bit of a stretch, Baelish. They're teenagers, barely grown. It's natural for thoughts to occur, you might've seen what you thought you would see. It has no meaning unless they acted upon it."

"I am all but certain that they did, my lord. They entered the tent together and she left in quite a hurry," said Littlefinger.

Tyrion strained his ears. He was certain that he had missed a piece of the conversation. _Margaery Tyrell and someone in a tent. But who? And what? _Tyrion looked at the little boy, who was listening intently. They locked eyes, but the little boy held a finger to his lips. _Oh, right. Stop thinking and listen. Don't miss anything else._

"If what you say is true, we would have the Tyrells in thrall, and we could destroy the Young Wolf's army from within," mused Tywin.

"I live only to serve the Iron Throne, my lord. I provide you the information, what you do with it is no concern of mine. I am just pleased that you find my humble information pleasing to the Crown's interests," said Littlefinger sycophantically.

"Are you certain that _some _truth can be derived from this?" asked Tywin. "All the rumors in the world will make no difference if it is not believable."

"Many lords who declared for Renly have recently pledged fealty to the Iron Throne. They will recall the closeness shared by these two. Simply direct doubters in their direction, then remind them that you can extinguish their family name if you wish," quipped Littlefinger.

"You've been spending too much time around my daughter," grumbled Tywin.

"I apologize if my speech offends you, my lord. All I have is at your gratitude and I am extremely grateful to you for." _What a suck up. _

There was a scraping sound. Someone was standing up. "One last time, Lord Baelish. The entire war and future of the Seven Kingdoms rests on this information. Are you absolutely certain?"

There was a pause, and then the schmoozing voice of Littlefinger spoke a final time. "Without a doubt, my lord. As I said before, the details I am unsure of, but what I do know is that the King in the North, Robb Stark, grew quite close to Margaery Tyrell while they were at Storm's End together, and I would say with confidence that they shared a moment of passion."

Tyrion dared not to move; in case his ears had lied to him about what he had just heard. _That cannot be true. Someone say something to the contrary._

Tywin cleared his throat. "Let us not speak of this any further. Come, I am famished, and Tyrion said there might still be bacon. Well, there will be if I want any."

The chamber door opened and shut again. Footsteps pattered away down the hall. The little boy did not move until a few minutes had passed and silence was the only thing they could hear. At last, he stood up and departed down the passage back the way Tyrion had come.

Tyrion followed, but when he reached the hallway outside the chamber doors, the boy had disappeared. Rather than try and find him or go break his fast to satisfy his now roaring stomach, Tyrion headed back to his room. The sun had fully risen by this time, causing Tyrion to realize how much time had passed.

Once back in his chambers, Tyrion lay down on his featherbed, staring up at the ceiling. He wished he could speak to someone, anyone about what he heard. But unfortunately, speaking of it could have catastrophic, unintended consequences. No one could be counted upon to keep their mouths shut. So Tyrion's mind started racing to fully comprehend what he had heard.

_The Young Wolf and the Rose of Highgarden…that would be a disaster. _Tyrion knew perfectly well his father never missed a chance to point out that he was good for little more than drinking, whoring, and gambling away the family money. But his mind was just as sharp as his father's, he liked to think. Tyrion knew what had gone through his father's head when Littlefinger had told him that Robb Stark and Margaery Tyrell might have had feelings for one another.

A marriage between those two would have brought together the armies of the North, the Riverlands, and the Reach. Winterfell, Riverrun, and Highgarden combined would be an unstoppable force. There was no way the Lannisters could have stood up to such power, especially with Stannis sailing for their doorstep. _Our heads would be on spikes outside the city gates right now if that marriage had happened._

If the Tyrells dared to take the Lannisters' position as the most powerful house, Tywin could drop this bombshell on the realm just as Stannis had done with Cersei and Jaime. Even if Littlefinger was lying, and no such feelings or events transpired, Tyrion had a sinking suspicion his father could turn mere rumors and whispers to facts and results. As for Robb Stark, Tyrion was not sure how his father intended to use this information. But he already knew it would not be pleasant. Lord Tywin would use this to completely obliterate the Young Wolf. _A Lannister always pays his debts._

Then Tyrion put the thoughts aside. Margaery was marrying Joffrey, not Robb Stark. _Thank the gods that those two come from families where duty comes before personal interests. Had those two been sired from the loins of Lannisters or Martells, _he thought, thinking of Cersei and Jaime, or perhaps Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, _we would have been fucked in the arse by now._

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed! **


	11. Chapter 11: Margaery

**A/N: Kind of a filler chapter of sorts but hope you guys enjoy it all the same.**

* * *

_Chapter Eleven: Margaery_

Margaery waited anxiously at the gates of the Red Keep for the arrival of her grandmother, Lady Olenna Tyrell.

Her grandmother was usually quite punctual, and she was due to arrive at midday. Yet Margaery and her retinue stood dutifully at the gates for what felt like an eternity before a rider approached, announcing that her grandmother had arrived in the city.

_Finally, _thought Margaery. She was anxious to see her grandmother for very particular reasons. Her head was a battlefield for emotions and her new home was a battlefield for words. _I pray you will give me good counsel, Grandmother._

When Olenna's carriage finally passed through the gates of the Red Keep, Margaery swept over and greeted the infamous Queen of Thorns first, curtsying as expected. That was all she seemed to do these days; what she was expected to do.

Olenna took one look at her and seemed to immediately understand her granddaughter's unspoken desire for a private conversation. "You there, Left and Right. Carry my things to my quarters. Tell Lord Tywin and whoever else cares that I have arrived, and when I feel up to it, I shall greet them." She turned to Margaery. "Come, dear. I can sense you have something you wish to tell me."

Margaery started walking towards the gardens, but Olenna held her back. "No, no. We'll speak in Maegor's Holdfast. The only place with no rats in the walls, if you know what I mean?"

As they walked up to Margaery's chambers, the queen-to-be started wondering about what she would say. _What will she counsel?_ But while Margaery was anxious, Olenna seemed perfectly calm in contrast, making comments about everyone they passed on the way up.

"Oh, I last saw her at the tourney at Lannisport after the Greyjoy Rebellion, she's aged horribly…"

"Boros Blount, what an insipid choice for a Kingsguard. A coward and an idiot, what a combination for the king's seven…"

"Tell me, Margaery, that that girl is not in your service. I shudder to think the state of your hair if that's how she does her own…"

Finally, they arrived at Margaery's quarters and stepped inside. Without missing a beat, Olenna spun around and looked Margaery right in the eyes, sizing her up.

"Dear child, what has happened? I hear only good things, but the look on your face convinces me otherwise. Is it Cersei? Horrible twat, I know, but I think you've already made some serious headway in undermining the Lannisters' power. The orphanage…what a stroke of sheer brilliance, my child. They'll be singing your praises for years to come. They've already begun to forget that damn woman, you know…" Olenna would have gone on, but Margaery cut her off.

"Grandmother, it is not Cersei. I know that it was a good move to help those poor orphans, and I wanted to help them. The smallfolk are so hurt by this war, and they deserve better. They'll sing the praises of House Tyrell for moons to come. Don't worry, I am handling things splendidly on that front."

"I'll say. I was still two days away from King's Landing when I first heard word of it. The smallfolk absolutely adore you."

Margaery smiled. "Thank you, but I wanted to speak to you about something else, Grandmother. One thing I wanted to get your counsel on is the king."

Olenna narrowed her eyes. "I've heard tell of Joffrey Baratheon from Highgarden and all the way here to the capital. Some claim he's a monster, the Mad King or Aerion Brightflame reborn. Others claim its his mother speaking through him, and the boy has no original thoughts of his own. _Lannisters,_" Olenna said the word like it was an insult. "They may be our allies now, but you can be sure Tywin Lannister isn't like to forget that we once took up arms against his precious family." She spoke in a quieter tone. "Surround yourself with those you can trust. Do not settle for the queen's people, rest assured they will tell her about everything you do, everyone you so much as speak to, and everywhere you go."

_That's helpful, but not quite what I wanted to discuss._ "Thank you, Grandmother, but that's not quite it. Joffrey seems nice and kingly enough when I am in his company, but I don't know…"

"If that's the real him?" asked Olenna crisply. "Yes, smart girl, I knew you were cut from a more intelligent cloth than your oaf of a father. It might be an act. Any boy who calls a man as noble as Eddard Stark a traitor to the realm and has him beheaded for show is definitely a boy of many faces. My advice, if you want to know the real Joffrey, ask the girl who was previously betrothed to him."

"Sansa Stark, you mean." Margaery had not thought about Sansa in days. She hadn't laid eyes on her since Joffrey had set her aside. "I saw her, in court. She looked absolutely miserable, the saddest thing you've ever seen, Grandmother."

"There might be your answer," said Olenna triumphantly. "Still, I would invite the girl to tea, we'll see what she knows. She may be a prisoner of the queen, but I daresay Cersei would not refuse us, who are keeping her son on the Iron Throne."

Margaery nodded, but looked around, nervous. She hoped the rumors that Maegor's Holdfast was the one room in the Red Keep with no secret ears were true. Olenna glanced around, knowing what was on Margaery's mind.

"It's all right, my dear. I can tell you are still worried about something. What is it?"

Margaery hesitated, then said, "Do you remember when we spoke at Highgarden of Robb Stark?"

Olenna didn't miss a beat. "Yes, I recall, my memory's not going down the sewers just yet. You said that he was there at Storm's End, treating with Renly Baratheon, your _doting_ husband. He's still calling himself King in the North, is he not? I heard he captured Casterly Rock, you know. Oh, to see the look on Tywin Lannister's face when he found out that the Young Wolf took his home…I would have given anything to see that." Olenna laughed to herself, but quickly composed. "But the Lannisters are our allies, now, child. We are bound to join them should they march on the Starks."

"I confess, I did not tell you everything that happened at Storm's End with Robb Stark, Grandmother." _Particularly not with Littlefinger in our halls._

"Is this the part where you tell me that you kissed him while you were still technically married to Renly? Or did it go further, like with me and your grandfather?"

Margaery had long since known that her grandmother was astute at picking up on visual clues. _She's probably known since I returned to Highgarden. _"We did kiss…once. Grandmother, it was the most wonderful, most passionate feeling of my life. I never wanted it to end. I'm torn; I am supposed to love Joffrey for the rest of my life, but no matter how hard I try, Robb Stark remains in my head. Some days…" she hesitated, then rushed on. "Some days, I wish that I had beseeched you and Father to join him."

Olenna smiled genially. "You're young, my child. The first feelings of love are always the sweetest taste in the world. But remember, you have a duty to our house. You've planted the seeds here in King's Landing, and now they will grow strong. You will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. But I'll tell you this, you could've chosen a lot worse than Eddard Stark's son for your secret feelings. Noble, honorable, and the Northerners aren't truly as barbaric-looking as they make them out to be south of the Neck. Word has it that the boy takes after his Tully roots."

Margaery sighed dreamily. "He was very handsome, Grandmother." _And he made me feel alive. Whenever we spoke, he was all I could think about. All I wanted was to be near him from the moment I laid eyes on him. Our kiss…I felt whole when our lips touched. Like I was missing something my whole life and, in that instant, I was complete._

But Olenna suddenly became serious. "I know I do not have to tell you this but keep those thoughts inside your head at all times. Do not breathe one word of this to anyone in this city. Secrets and rumors are the hot commodity in the capital, and should the Lannisters get even the slightest notion of this, your reign will be just as tainted as Cersei's is."

"Of course, Grandmother," replied Margaery.

Olenna took her hand. "Now, let's see if we can't learn what kind of boy Joffrey is. Invite Sansa to tea around three o'clock. That should give me enough time to make those dreadful introductions."

Margaery shook her head, smiling as Olenna swept from the room. She sat down at her desk and penned an invitation to Sansa, requesting that she meet her for tea. Around an hour later, Loras arrived to announce that Olenna was in the gardens, so Margaery sent him to collect Sansa.

Out in the hot afternoon sun, Margaery waited patiently for Loras to arrive with Sansa. The birds were chirping, people were milling about, enjoying the day. The gardens of the Red Keep did not compare to the ones Margaery knew in Highgarden, but they weren't unpleasant.

More than wanting to know about Joffrey, Margaery decided that it would also be an opportune time to forge a bond with Sansa. _She looked so sad in the throne room; I want to help her. She's Robb's sister after all, but even if she wasn't, she doesn't deserve this._

When Sansa arrived in the gardens, she was clutching the arm of Loras, looking around rather anxiously. _The poor girl acts like a beaten animal. _Margaery, under Olenna's tutelage, had long since learned to wear a mask in public, to conceal one's true thoughts. Clearly Sansa had not received the same instruction, for she looked nervous both on the inside and out.

It was the saddest sight Margaery had seen and considering the orphans in King's Landing and the cupbearer at Harrenhal, that was saying something.

Nevertheless, the with gracefulness that she was well-practiced at, Margaery swept over to greet them at once. "Lady Sansa, I'm so pleased you came. Be welcome."

Sansa curtsied in response. "You do me great honor, Your Grace."

"Won't you call me Margaery? There's no need for such formal titles here. Might I call you Sansa?"

Sansa smiled slightly. "If it please you."

"Thank you, Loras, You are such a dear," said Margaery.

"I'll take my leave, then. Lady Sansa," Loras bowed and then strolled away. Margaery noticed Sansa's lingering gaze as he did. _Oh, Sansa. He'll never look at you the way you look at him, no matter how much you wish it._

"Come, my grandmother is waiting, and she is not the most patient of ladies." Margaery took Sansa by the arm and led her deeper into the gardens, where Olenna was holding court.

"Sansa, it is my honor to present my grandmother, the Lady Olenna of House Tyrell."

"Kiss me, child," Olenna said, extending her hand so Sansa could oblige. "It is so good of you to visit me and my foolish flock of hens. We're very sorry for your losses."

Rather than agree or delve into that, Sansa deflected. "And I was sorry when I heard of Lord Renly's death, Lady Margaery."

At that, Olenna immediately went on a rant about how Renly was only good at dressing and smiling and had no business declaring himself king. As Margaery listened, she noticed Sansa's deflection. _She doesn't want to talk about her family. _That slightly disheartened her, for she had hoped to get to know Sansa, and perhaps by extension, Robb.

"As to your fat head father…" Olenna continued, but Margaery tried to stop her there.

"Grandmother! What will Sansa think of us," she said, half-laughing. Sansa too smiled, stepping ever so slightly out of her shell.

"She might think we have some wits about us. One of us at any rate," said Olenna crisply. There was no shutting down the Queen of Thorns. When she wanted to speak, nothing, not even Aegon the Conqueror and his dragons could have stopped her. "It was treason. I warned them. Robert has two sons _and _Renly has an elder brother. How could he possibly have any claim to that ugly iron chair? We should have stayed well out of all of this if you ask me. But once the cow has been milked there's no squirting the cream back up her udders. What do you say to that, Sansa?"

Sansa opened and closed her mouth twice, looking at Margaery helplessly. Margaery couldn't help it; she started to giggle. It was something she had seen plenty of times. Many noblemen, knights, and ladies had been reduced to speechlessness by Olenna Tyrell's barbed tongue. _Sansa isn't the first, nor will she be the last._

"Shall we have some lemon cakes?" Olenna asked, preventing an awkward silence.

"Lemon cakes are my favorite," said Sansa, smiling again.

"So we've been told," said Olenna. "That eunuch Varys seemed to think we'd benefit from the information." Margaery noticed that Sansa seemed to shrink a little bit as Olenna talked about the Master of Whisperers. _Of course she doesn't like him. Varys is on the small council with Joffrey and the queen._ Thankfully, Olenna stopped talking about Varys and started off on a cupbearer who was supposed to be serving them.

"Here Sansa, come sit with us. I'm much less boring than these others. Even to your own family. You know your uncle Brynden, the one that everyone calls the Blackfish? He was once to be betrothed to some relative of mine, Bethany Redwyne. When he came to the Arbor with his brother, your grandfather Lord Hoster Tully, I could tell that he did not want any part of the marriage, so I took him aside and told him to speak his mind. Well, he did. Told his brother that he didn't want to be married and they left. And then Lord Hoster disowned his own brother. Ha! That was never my intent, but the Blackfish has been speaking his mind since that day and nothing your grandfather ever did could convince him otherwise."

"I didn't know that, Lady Olenna. In truth, I've never met my mother's uncle."

"Hmm. Have you met my son, the Lord of Highgarden?" asked Olenna as they sat down at the small table.

"I haven't had the pleasure."

"No great pleasure, believe me. The opposite of your uncle Blackfish in every way. My son is a ponderous oaf who shamelessly sucks up to those he perceives as his betters such as Tywin Lannister, leaving us to remind them that House Tyrell is not a lackey of Casterly Rock. As for his battle record, his one great achievement is forcing Robert Baratheon to retreat at the Battle of Ashford and then failing to take Storm's End from Stannis. In contrast, your uncle is a battle veteran, my dear, who has won more battles than anyone I can think of at the moment."

Sansa pursed her lips. "I'm sure that Lord Tyrell is a great lord."

"A great oaf," corrected Olenna. "Just like his oaf father, who somehow managed to ride off of a cliff whilst hawking. Paying no attention to where his horse was taking him. And now my son is doing the same, only he's mounted a lion instead of a horse."

Margaery stirred. She never failed to be amazed by her grandmother's way with words. The Queen of Thorns could start a conversation from any point and somehow direct it to a topic she wanted to discuss. And now they arrived at the point of the gathering.

"And now…I want you to tell me the truth about this royal boy…this Joffrey."

Margaery immediately saw how Sansa tensed up. All of the work that Olenna and Margaery had done to coax her out of her shell, to try and get her comfortable around them, was for naught. The girl had clenched the sides of her gown and seemed to be struggling to form words. _There's a war in her head,_ Margaery realized. _Just like there is one in mine._ The only difference was that Sansa did not do a good job of hiding her internal struggle.

"I…I…" Sansa was stammering, but Olenna cut her off.

"You, you. Who else would know better? We've heard some troubling tales. Is there any truth to them? Has this boy mistreated you? Has he ripped out your tongue?"

Sansa was averting her gaze, clearly forcing words to come from her mouth. "Joff…King Joffrey, he…His Grace is very fair and handsome and as brave as a lion."

"Yes, all Lannisters are lions and when a Tyrell farts, it smells like a rose. But how kind is he? How clever?" Olenna probed. "Has he a good heart, a gentle hand?"

"I am to be his wife," said Margaery gently. "I only mean to know what that means."

Sansa still looked turmoiled, but before she could speak again, the cupbearer Olenna had blasted earlier came forward with the lemon cakes. "Bring me some cheese," Olenna commanded.

"The cheese will be served after the cakes, my lady."

"The cheese will be served when I want it served, and I want it served now," the Queen of Thorns quipped. Margaery suppressed a small smile as the boy, flustered, hurried away to fetch the cheese platter.

"Are you frightened, child?" asked Olenna, drawing Sansa and Margaery's attention back to her. "No need for that, we're only women here. Tell us the truth. No harm will come to you."

"My father always told the truth," said Sansa quietly. Tears were forming in the young girl's eyes.

"Yes, he had that reputation," said Olenna, not unkindly. "And still, they named him traitor and took his head."

"Joffrey."

The words were suddenly pouring from Sansa's mouth fast and furious, as if everything she'd been keeping bottled up inside was being released all at once. Margaery sat up straighter, determined to hear every word. "Joffrey did that," Sansa said, looking from Olenna to Margaery. "He promised he would be merciful, and he cut my father's head off and he said that was mercy. And then he took me up to the walls and made me look at it."

"Go on," Margaery said, determined to hear more.

But Sansa seemed to remember where she was and clammed up again. Her face was turning as red as her hair. "I can't…I never meant…my father was a traitor, my mother and brother are traitors as well; I have traitor's blood. Please don't make me say anymore."

"She's terrified, Grandmother, just look at her." Margaery knew why. Sansa feared for her life if word got to Joffrey or Cersei that Sansa said anything negative. Margaery wished she could comfort the girl, reassure her. _But in King's Landing, reassurances and promises are nothing_.

"Speak freely, child," said Olenna quietly. "We would never betray your confidence, I swear it. What sort of man is Joffrey, who calls himself Baratheon but looks so very Lannister?"

Sansa at last looked up and stared them both in the eyes. "He's a monster. He made Father kill my wolf. When I displease him, he has the Kingsguard beat me. He's evil and cruel and the queen as well."

Margaery's mind went into overdrive. So it was all an act that Joffrey put on in her presence. They had terrified Sansa into submission and convinced her to repeat choice words to any who asked, like a trained bird. The information did not come as a complete shock, but Margaery was already picturing her future life. She remembered the stories about the Mad King and his queen, whom he used to rape whenever he burned someone alive. She envisioned a mad Joffrey using her for his own pleasure whenever he wished. _And he's king, so no one to tell him no. _The thoughts sent a shiver down her spine.

But outwardly, she shrugged indifferently and bit into a lemon cake. "Ah, that's a pity," sighed Olenna.

Sansa was already retreating into her shell, trying to recompose herself. "Oh, please don't stop the wedding."

"Have no fear," Olenna said, waving an airy hand. "The lord oaf of Highgarden has determined that Margaery shall be queen. Even so, we thank you for the truth."

Suddenly, Margaery thought of a way to help Sansa with one word from her grandmother. _Highgarden._

"Sansa, would you like to visit Highgarden? I know you would love it there as I do. The flowers of autumn are in bloom, and the courtyards are much nicer than the ones here. Once you see it, you'll never wish to leave. And perhaps you won't have to."

"I would love to…but the queen, she won't let me go…"

"She will," interrupted Olenna. "Without Highgarden, the Lannisters have no hope of keeping Joffrey on his throne. Did you know that your brother Robb has captured Casterly Rock? I expect Tywin Lannister will be summoning every man from all corners of Westeros who have sworn fealty to the Iron Throne to try and take the fight to him. Highgarden will supply most of the troops and food, so the Lannisters will have no choice if my lord oaf son asks to have you visit Highgarden."

Margaery could see the possibilities becoming real in Sansa's face. "Will he ask?" wondered the Northern girl.

"I see no need to give him a choice."

Margaery smiled. "And my father will not have an idea of our true purpose. If you would like, you could be safely wed to my brother, far from the reach of the Lannisters. Would you like that, Sansa? I've never had a sister before, only brothers. Oh please say yes, say that you will consent to marry my brother." _You'll be safe, I promise. _

Sansa beamed. "Yes I will. More than anything. To wed Ser Loras, to love him…"

Olenna frowned. "Loras? No, no, he's of the Kingsguard, they don't marry. Didn't they teach you anything in Winterfell? No, we were speaking of my eldest grandson Willas, the heir to Highgarden. He's a bit old for you, but he's not the least bit oafish, have no fear on that account."

Sansa blinked, then said, "I do not know Ser Willas. Is he a great knight like his brothers?"

"No, he has never taken vows," said Margaery. "He is crippled, you see. He was hurt as a squire, riding in his first tourney. His horse fell and crushed his leg."

Olenna sniffed. "It was all that snake of a Dornishman's fault. The Red Viper, Oberyn Martell. And that maester of his."

"Willas has a bad leg but a good heart and mind," said Margaery quickly, preventing Olenna from ranting about the Dornish. "You will love him as much as we do, Sansa."

"When might I meet him?" asked Sansa.

"After Joffrey and I are wed," said Margaery. The very name now gave her a chill, knowing what kind of man he was, but there was nothing to be done. "My brother will be enchanted with you, you'll see."

"Oh, I hope so," said Sansa. Margaery smiled, more so at herself than Sansa. _I've managed to find a way to get Sansa out of the Lannisters' clutches. I know she will be happy at Highgarden. And Willas shall love her instantly, I know it._

Olenna smiled as the cheese platter was finally served. "About time," she said. The cupbearer nodded profusely before scurrying away. Sansa watched curiously before turning to Margaery.

"I don't think I've met anyone quite like your grandmother," she said in a hushed tone, albeit laughing.

"Oh, Grandmother is one of a kind, to be sure," said Margaery, joining in on her laugh. "She knows what she wants, and she knows when she wants it."

"My brother Robb is the same way, but he's a bit more tact, I would say," replied Sansa.

"I met Robb, you know. When I was married to Renly."

Sansa's eyes went wide. "When? Where? How is he? Is he alright?"

"Well, considering he's captured Casterly Rock, I would say he's doing alright," laughed Margaery. "He came to visit Renly seeking an alliance between their factions. They almost succeeded, until Renly died."

"Oh," said Sansa. "I wish they had. Then you and Renly would be king and queen, and Robb could take me home."

"Shh," said Margaery, for Sansa's voice was starting to carry. "Remember, we would never betray your confidence, but there's no telling if the queen has men here listening now. We must speak softer."

"Oh, right." Sansa wiped her mouth from the cheese. "Of course. Joffrey is the one true king of the Seven Kingdoms, and all of the others are rebels and traitors."

"Yes, indeed," said Margaery. "But when I met your brother, he was very noble and charming and ever so gallant. His presence was a welcoming sight during those days I had to journey with Renly." _And when I kissed him, I felt more alive than I ever have in my entire life. _"He was very comely; I thought some Northern brute from a frozen wasteland would be coming, you know."

Sansa laughed. "No, the North is actually quite lovely. I thought it bland and cold and boring, but I'd settle for that over…" she gestured around the Red Keep and King's Landing. "And the people are actually quite loyal and welcome and courteous. Robb in particular had to master his courtesies because he was to be Lord of Winterfell after our father."

Margaery nodded thoughtfully. "The Reachmen are the same. Loyalty and chivalry are our defining traits."

The sun was beginning to set on the first day that Margaery had enjoyed King's Landing. Just as she was about to bid Sansa farewell, two Lannister guardsmen strolled into the gardens. They spoke to Loras, who nodded to them and came over to Margaery and Sansa.

"My apologies, Lady Sansa, but the queen regent is…ah, requesting that you dine with her in a half hour. The red cloaks are here to escort you back to your quarters to prepare."

"Oh, of course. I mustn't keep the queen waiting." Sansa turned to Margaery. "Thank you for the lemon cakes and the company, Lady Margaery. I hope we can do it again sometime."

"I would like that very much, Lady Sansa," answered Margaery. Sansa and Loras took their leave, leaving Margaery alone with Olenna, whom Margaery had forgotten was even there. _The Queen of Thorns could blend in and be silent when she wanted to._

"Well, you've made a friend and gained her trust, I would think," said Olenna.

"She's very lovely company, Grandmother. The queen helps those who need help, and Sansa Stark needed our help."

"Yes, well, I'll see what I can do about betrothing Sansa to Willas, that much I can promise. But remember what I said earlier about curbing your interest in the Young Wolf." Olenna said this all quietly whilst watching the red cloaks of the Lannister guardsmen retreating out of the gardens.

"I remember, Grandmother."

Margaery wished she could've asked Sansa more about Robb. The more she thought about it, there was a lot she was wishing for now. _I wish I asked Father to marry me to Robb. I wish I was not marrying Joffrey. I wish I was free to do as my heart desired instead of what my head commanded. I wish I could help everyone who needed help._

Margaery frowned as she headed back to her quarters; it was the first time her mask had broken since arriving in King's Landing.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to all of you who review and follow this story. Keep doing so!**


	12. Chapter 12: Jaime

_Chapter Twelve: Jaime_

Jaime thought he knew what torture was. He had seen the Mad King roast Lord Rickard Stark alive and force his son Brandon to strangle himself. Jaime himself struggled with the secret about Tysha that he had kept from Tyrion all these years. He had even imagined on multiple occasions what it must have been like for the Reynes to drown in the mines of Castamere and the Tarbecks to have their castle brought down on top of him.

But that was nothing compared to the cries of the Lady of Winterfell.

Jaime had been dragged around from camp to camp in the Westerlands as the Starks closed in on the Lannister home. But once the Young Wolf in all his stupidity captured Casterly Rock, the boy had decided to quietly send Jaime back to Riverrun with Catelyn Stark. _Oh, the humiliation. As if I was nothing more than livestock, being shuffled around like this. _When the news arrived at Riverrun that Winterfell had been put to the torch by the Greyjoy boy and his ironborn, killing the two youngest Stark boys, Jaime heard the wailing of Catelyn Stark all the way in his cell. The guards who brought him his meager scraps would talk amongst themselves about the ironborn scum, and Jaime soon had the whole story. _Oh, the poor she-wolf. _For the first time since his capture, he genuinely feared for his life. There was no telling what Robb or Catelyn Stark would do in their grief.

Despite his fear, Jaime found himself empathizing with the woman. He imagined how much pain he would be in if something happened to Joffrey or Myrcella or Tommen. _Well, maybe not Joff. He was nothing more than a squirt of seed in Cersei's cunt to me. But the other two, they are sweet and innocent. _These were the thoughts that ran through Jaime's head as he awaited a visit he was sure would come from one or both of the Starks.

He was soon proven correct, as the night after the wailing began, Catelyn Stark paid a visit to his cell in the dead of night. Like her previous visit where she asked him bizarre questions about his love for Cersei, she asked him more questions, this time about some dagger and her son whom she thought he or Tyrion or Cersei wanted dead. Bemused that she would be concerned about an attempt on her son's life when said son was already dead, Jaime had told her that he had no clue about any dagger, and he was confident that neither Tyrion nor Cersei had anything to do with it. He thought he saw something that looked like belief in her eyes, but she said nothing more when she swept from the dungeon.

The next night, after another day of wailing, she returned. This time the Lady of Winterfell was all business. In the light of the torch she carried, her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Yet those Tully blue eyes blazed with intensity as she looked at him.

"Your brother swears to return my daughters to me if I return him to you. Do you, Kingslayer, swear to return my daughters Sansa and Arya to me if I return you to the capital?" Her voice was scant more than a whisper, echoing off the dark dungeon walls like rattled breath.

"I do, Lady Stark," he had croaked, more so out of desperation to be free of his cell. He had only been back in its familiar confines for a few nights now since the Young Wolf had sent him back here after the fall of Casterly Rock, but he yearned to be free of its darkness and its stank.

"Swear that you will never again take up arms against Stark nor Tully. Swear that you will compel your brother to honor his pledge to return my daughters safe and unharmed. Swear on your honor as a knight, on your honor as a Lannister, on your honor as Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard. Swear it by your sister's life, and your father's, and your sons', by the old gods and the new, and I'll send you back to your sister. Refuse, and I will have your blood," Catelyn had chanted.

"I swear it by the old gods and the Seven. I'll even swear it by Stannis' red god if you'd like."

"Brienne," she had announced. "Your sword."

_Did she not like my answer? _But Jaime soon found himself out of his restraints for the first time in over a year. He stood and stretched, which hurt like hell. The only chains that remained were the irons that bound his wrists. Jaime smiled pleasantly and held out his wrists, but Catelyn scoffed.

"I think not. Brienne, you will escort the Kingslayer back to King's Landing and return my daughters to me."

"I swear I shall do just that, Lady Catelyn," remarked the wench.

"I take it the Young Wolf doesn't know about this clandestine mission?" asked Jaime. _I wonder if that girl he liked broke his heart yet. _

"No. And my son will send men after you. Go while its dark and put as many leagues as you can between you and Riverrun before day breaks. You have sworn a vow, Kingslayer. Do not break this one." Catelyn hesitated, then finished with pure despair in her voice. "Please, bring me back my daughters."

And with that, Catelyn Stark had departed, leaving Jaime alone with his new traveling companion. As he watched her leave, Jaime thought how she expected him to break his word. The thought was so amusing, he decided he would return her daughters, if nothing else but to see the look on her face when she found out he, the Kingslayer, kept his vow.

Jaime wasn't quite sure how he and the wench made it out of Riverrun, for he was half asleep and it was dark out. What he did know was that he'd been given a razor to cut his long, golden locks to prevent some random passerby from recognizing him, thrown into the bottom of a dinghy, and the portcullis on the Water Gate had been raised, allowing them to float their way down the Red Fork.

In the crystal-clear night, Jaime spotted his reflection on the water in the moonlight. A man he barely recognized stared back at him. A long golden beard, a shaved head, a thinned face…_Cersei will hate that we don't look alike anymore, but it's better than never seeing one another again. The hair will grow back._

The wench rowed down the Red Fork for hours, presumably taking Jaime to the Ruby Ford and then by foot to King's Landing. Jaime slept until daybreak when he was rudely awakened by a jolt.

"Awaken, Kingslayer, unless you'd like your nap to continue forever!" The wench was rowing them towards the riverbank; their small vessel had sprung a leak.

"Really, wench? You couldn't even row us down a river without springing a leak? What village did Catelyn Stark find you in? I've a mind to visit them and instruct them on their methods."

The wench huffed. "For your information, _Kingslayer_, I rowed us many leagues before this happened, and the only reason the boat leaked is because I was trying to avoid Stark soldiers from spotting you."

Jaime looked back, and sure enough, there was a bridge over the river on which he could just make out the smudgy forms of men standing. _So, the wench isn't completely useless after all._ The wench paddled their sinking dinghy over to the riverbank, hauled him out of the boat and flung him down on the shore as the remains sank beneath the river.

"Nice job, wench. Now we must walk," sneered Jaime.

"My name is not _wench_, Kingslayer. I am Brienne of Tarth."

"My name is not _Kingslayer_, Brienne of Tarth. I am Ser Jaime Lannister of Casterly Rock, son of Tywin Lannister."

"You slew the Mad King Aerys, did you not?" she retorted, gathering his chains to make a leash.

Jaime held his head higher. He was proud of that fact, no matter what others thought. "Yes, I did. And you are a woman, are you not? I understand if most people don't take you at your word, dressing in that manner with that body."

"Let's go," Brienne said. Jaime rolled his eyes and pushed his way through some shrubs into a wide-open field.

"Walking by foot to King's Landing will take seven fortnights, at least," he complained.

Brienne scoffed. "Just because you are used to riding everywhere on a horse doesn't mean the rest of us have the same luxury. We will walk, at least for the time being."

"Well, how should we pass the time?" asked Jaime, with the air of making conversation.

"By putting one foot in front of the other," said Brienne shortly.

"That's going to be a very dull walk."

"I'm here to take you to King's Landing and bring back Lady Catelyn's daughters in exchange. Dull is fine."

"You know, it doesn't matter how loyal a servant you are," Jaime started, stopping to face Brienne. But the wench simply pushed him to keep him moving. "No one enjoys the company of a humorless mute. Trust me on this. People have been serving me since I was born. You think Lady Stark's going to want a giant plank following her around for the rest of her life? A week's journey with you and she'll order you to fall on your sword."

_Come on, wench. Just let your guard down and let me at your sword. _Jaime had no intention of letting this wench take him all the way to King's Landing. Oh, sure, he _would _keep his word to Catelyn Stark, but the idea of spending endless time in the company of this wench was unbearable. _Come on. Get angry and let your guard down._

But the wench clearly had no such intentions to be goaded into a fight. She forced him to keep walking and said, "If Lady Catelyn is displeased with any aspect of my service, I am sure she'll let me know. She's an honest woman."

"For all the good it's done her." Jaime wasn't trying to get a rise out of Brienne this time, he was being sincere. For all of the Starks' honesty and loyalty, where had it gotten them? Their lord father was dead by Joff's hand, the Young Wolf had been forced to step up and fight a war that was way too big for him, the two girls were captives in King's Landing, the two boys were dead by their former ward's hand, their home had been burned down, and the mother had been reduced to a walking, grieving shell. _They were marked for doom the moment Robert decided to make Ned Stark his Hand. _

Jaime and Brienne continued walking through forests and fields as the sun reached its peak in the sky. There was a gentle breeze that cooled Jaime's face, and the birds were chirping pleasantly. The area they were walking through seemed to be one of the few places in the Riverlands that neither Jaime's father nor Robb Stark had managed to touch with the stain of war. _You might not even know that a war is erupting outside these fields._

As Jaime felt the need to relieve himself on a tree about three hours past midday by his estimate, he tried to talk to Brienne again, mostly out of boredom. "How did you come into Lady Stark's service?"

"Not your concern, Kingslayer."

"It had to be recently," mused Jaime, once again ignoring the derogatory nickname. "You weren't with her at Winterfell."

"How do you know?" asked Brienne, furrowing her brow.

"Because I visited Winterfell; I would have noticed your giant frame smacking into their archways," replied Jaime as he laced up his breeches.

"Move," was Brienne's reply.

"Were you pledged to Stannis?" asked Jaime. He recalled that House Tarth from their seat at Evenfall Hall was sworn to Storm's End and House Baratheon.

"Gods, no," spat Brienne, true venom in her voice.

"Ah, Renly," realized Jaime. "Really? He wasn't fit to rule over anything more important than a twelve-course meal."

"Shut your mouth," snarled Brienne. _Ah, that hit a nerve. _

"Why? I've lived with him at court since he was a boy, don't forget. All he did was skip up and down the corridors of the Red Keep in his embroidered silks. I knew him better than you."

"I knew him well enough. I was a member of his Kingsguard. He trusted me with everything."

"Sounds like you quite fancied him."

"I did not fancy him."

"Oh, gods, _you did_," Jaime laughed, craning his neck about to look at her. "Oh, gods. Ha! Well, sorry to inform you, but you weren't Renly's type, I'm afraid. He preferred curly haired little girls like Loras Tyrell. You're far too much man for him."

"I'm not interested in foul rumors."

"Except when they're about me," retorted Jaime, thinking of Stannis' letter. "It's all true about Renly, you know. His proclivities were the worst kept secret at court. It's a shame the Iron Throne isn't made out of cocks, they would've never gotten him off of it."

Jaime braced himself for the reaction and was not disappointed. Brienne violently grabbed Jaime by his beard and held a knife to his throat. "Shut your mouth!" the wench hissed.

"I don't blame him, but I don't blame you either," said Jaime softly. "We don't get to choose who we love." _Cersei, whom I did everything for. I joined the Kingsguard for you, I suffered Father's wrath for you, I fucked you whenever you wanted. _

"Keep moving," Brienne finally said, pushing him violently.

"You know, you never did answer my question," said Jaime thoughtfully.

"What question?"

"How did you come into Lady Stark's service? You were in Renly's Kingsguard and as soon as he dies, you somehow come to be the sworn shield of the Lady of Winterfell. Very strange series of events."

Brienne did not answer for a time. They walked in silence, as the day wore on and late afternoon overtook the lands. At last, just when Jaime's legs were beginning to feel as if they would fall off if he walked another step, she spoke.

"Her son saved me."

"What?" asked Jaime, having forgotten the conversation completely.

"You asked how I came into Lady Stark's service. Her son, Robb, saved me by taking me with him when we fled Storm's End after Renly's murder."

"Fleeing the murder of a king, even if he's a pretender. You know that looks pretty suspicious."

"Yes," said Brienne through gritted teeth. "But the King in the North and the queen saved me. They knew me to be innocent, for they saw Stannis' work with their own eyes. Most would sacrifice another to save their own skins, but at great risk to themselves, they helped me get to freedom and await a chance at justice."

Many questions sprouted from this answer. _What queen? Stannis' work? Great risk? _Jaime settled on the easiest one. "What queen are you talking about? I'm to understand that Robb Stark is unmarried, an odd state for a king to be in."

"Not his queen," replied Brienne. "Renly's _wife_, Queen Margaery Tyrell."

"Loras' sister? And what, she was fine with her husband fucking her brother? She must be some queen to be okay with that."

"Queen Margaery and King Robb's kindness and empathy for others is why others are proud to serve them," said Brienne loudly, ignoring Jaime's quip. "It is why others are proud to lay down their lives for them. I wouldn't be standing here today if they were like you and the Lannisters. They helped me ride to freedom when they knew me to be innocent of Renly's murder."

Jaime didn't answer. In his mind, pieces were starting to fit together. _Catelyn Stark visited me asking those bizarre questions about my love for Cersei…the night that the Young Wolf returned, clearly from Renly's camp, since that was the night the wench first appeared. A girl from Renly's camp that the Young Wolf fell for…no, it couldn't be._

He couldn't help it; he burst out laughing. The hilarity of the situation caused him to shake violently till he physically couldn't stand anymore. Jaime fell over, still chuckling. Brienne seized the chain leash and tried to yank him back to his feet. Jaime didn't even care about the pain, for his mirth was so great, it blocked out the searing pain of the metal chains digging into his thinned wrists. He choked for a few seconds, trying to draw breath into his lungs, but it was a struggle; he kept laughing till his sides hurt and tears formed in his eyes.

At last, the laughs subsided. Jaime wiped the tears from his eyes as he looked at Brienne. "Do not say it isn't so. Oh, the gods would be cruel to give me amusement such as this just for you to rip it away."

"What are you talking about?" asked Brienne, a look of confusion on her face.

"Margaery Tyrell! That's the girl that the Young Wolf fell for, isn't it? When you and Lady Catelyn visited my cell at Riverrun, she asked those questions about my emotional pain, I knew it had to be tied to her son. I don't know why I didn't realize it sooner. What other girl would be at Renly Baratheon's camp?" exclaimed Jaime.

"I will not indulge such slander to you, Kingslayer. Lady Margaery was queen to Renly. She would never…"

Jaime cut her off. "Never forsake her duty for desire? Is she not human? Oh, sure, she was probably very devoted to Renly when it served the interests of her house, but on the inside, we're all about ourselves. We don't choose whom we love or what we want. You didn't. I didn't. Neither did the Young Wolf or Margaery Tyrell. It's just a shame that they happened to be born to houses such as Stark and Tyrell."

"What are you talking about?" repeated Brienne.

"Those houses promote duty to their house, to their family over personal gain or desire. I would wager she broke his heart, given the rash way Robb Stark attacked Casterly Rock. I recognize it now; it was the lashing out of someone who's in emotional pain. He has a weakness, my dear wench. And if anyone can turn weakness of someone into a weapon, it's my father. When he gets wind of this, he'll have what he needs to bring the entire North and Riverlands to heel. That's what I am talking about."

Brienne said nothing. She scowled suspiciously at him and pushed him forward. Jaime kept walking, now immersed in his thoughts.

_So Robb Stark and Margaery Tyrell have feelings for one another. I'll be sure to let my father know once I return to him. _

But as Jaime walked, he realized something. He and Cersei had lusted for one another for a long time, but as soon as men like Jon Arryn or Eddard Stark got notions of it, they tried to out them with no real proof. Sure Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen had the looks of Lannisters, but where was the proof? They had no concrete proof, only whispers and rumors. Yet, here were Robb Stark and Margaery Tyrell, with no one trying to out them. _Perhaps I am wrong, and I am putting pieces together that don't exist_, thought Jaime. _But that's unlikely. _No, the logical explanation was there. But no one was whispering or sending around letters saying that Robb and Margaery were fucking, or plotting together, or anything of the sort. _It's unlikely that I am the only one who has pieced this together. Surely the Northmen or anyone in Renly's camp realizes this. They're teenagers, not used to sneaking about. Someone must have seen or figured this out other than me._

Then Jaime thought about what Brienne had said about why others were proud to serve the Starks and the Tyrells. _Lannisters are crafty and ruthless, but we always end up winning. The noblest of intentions and the purest hearts are trodden upon in the Seven Kingdoms. But how is it that legions of men are willing to overlook this and keep a secret such as this without someone singing a threatening song in their midst? Knowing that they'll most likely lose their lives and the lives of everyone they love if certain people find out that they are keeping such secrets?_

For the first time in his life, Jaime Lannister was seriously wondering if his house truly was the greatest house there ever was as his father had raised him to believe. He wasn't laughing anymore.

Jaime remained in his troubling thoughts as they approached a swift bend in the river. They could wade through, but it would take longer. There was a bridge, but the odds were high that someone would show up on the bridge and recognize them. He could tell the decision was weighing heavily on Brienne.

"It's a tough decision. Take the bridge and risk being seen. Or cross the water…" began Jaime.

"Silence, Kingslayer. You were more pleasant when you were silent."

"Anyone can see us on the bridge, but cross by water and the current could take us or I could escape down the river."

Jaime watched with satisfaction as Brienne struggled with her dilemma. If nothing else, it took him away from thoughts his lord father would consider to be treasonous to House Lannister. Finally, Brienne yanked on his chain leash and led him towards the bridge.

"Be quick about it," she said impatiently.

But Jaime decided that a Brienne out of her comfort zone was a Brienne he might have a chance to escape from. Rather than comply like a good captive, he stumbled his way halfway across the bridge before his feet began to hurt. Time for a break. _And if it makes Brienne angrier, so much the better. _Jaime flopped down halfway across the bridge and refused to move a muscle.

"I need to rest," he said petulantly.

"Get up."

"I have these, you know, on your feet when you walk too far. What do you call them?"

"Get up now," snapped Brienne, tugging on his leash.

"Corns. I never used to get corns. But as you said before, I was used to riding everywhere, not marching, wearing these same shit boots for over a year."

Brienne reached down to pull him to his feet and Jaime saw his chance. In one swift motion, he pulled one of Brienne's swords from its sheath and stepped away. His first thought was to cut the chains that bound his wrist so tightly, but he could not maneuver the blade in such a way with said chains around his wrists. _Ah, well. With the wench's other sword, I'll cut these chains and be on my way. _He glanced over to see his captor already drawing her other sword.

Jaime cockily stepped deftly around her, waiting for an opening. The wench undeniably moved well, preventing Jaime from ending this bout with one quick strike. All at once, he pounced.

They crossed swords, ringing steel against steel in the late afternoon sun. Unfortunately, it was cloudy now, so there was no hope of the sun glaring into Brienne's face to aid Jaime for a swift finish. Jaime's bound hands prevented him from his usual thrusts and feints, but he wasn't one of the best swordsmen in the Seven Kingdoms for nothing. The wench would eventually slip up. She couldn't defeat him, even chained. It was impossible.

"You shouldn't grimace before you lunge. Gives away the game," said Jaime. _I can use words to distract her as well as a feint can. _

Jaime lunged and pressed her back across the bridge, but Brienne stood her ground and forced him back. She ducked a swing and stepped around him, unwavering. Against his will, Jaime was slightly impressed. _She's not a bad swordsman, but she does not hold a candle to me._

"It's a quandary for you, isn't it?" taunted Jaime. "If you kill me, you fail Lady Stark. But if you don't kill me...I will kill you." He pressed again, but Brienne refused to give him an inch. She forced his advance and used his own momentum to throw him against the side of the bridge. _I won't give up. For Cersei!_ Jaime swung again but was blocked again.

"You can't hurt me, can you?" baited Jaime. But that was a mistake, for on the next swing, Brienne backslapped him with her freakishly large man-hand. Jaime fell, but rolled away and tried another attack, but he was beginning to get tired. He hadn't realized just how out of practice and shape he was until now.

Brienne forced him back across the bridge, grunting with every strike. Jaime raised his sword to deflect, for it was all he had strength for at this point. Brienne brought her sword down over and over again. _No, you can't defeat me. I am Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard. No wench can beat me. _

Summoning all his strength, he tried one final thrust, but Brienne lazily smacked his sword aside and Jaime went down in a crumpled heap. Exhausted, Jaime did not try to get up. All that he could think about was resting.

But that notion was soon just as defeated as his pitiful escape attempt. The thundering of horses' hooves sent a chill through Jaime. _We've been on this bridge too long. _But there was nothing to be done, for the horses were soon upon them. Jaime seized his sword and clambered to his feet to face the riders.

"Looks like your woman's getting the better of you," remarked the head rider lazily. "If you can call that a woman."

Jaime smiled good-naturedly. "We enjoy a good fight. Gets our juices flowing." He might have made another jibe, but his eyes glanced at the banners the riders flew. A red flayed man emblazoned on pink. _House Bolton, a vassal to the Starks._

"Ah, the flayed man of House Bolton. A bit gruesome for my taste."

"You look a bit familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?" asked the rider.

"Ever been to Ashemark?" said Jaime, thinking fast.

"No, can't say that I have."

"Then you don't know me. Seven blessings to you good gentlemen, but we must be on our way."

The head rider squinted. "I could swear I know you."

"Didn't we just establish that you don't know me, ser?"

"Aye, I said I've never been to Ashemark. Doesn't mean I don't know you. What's your name?"

"Jon," said Jaime immediately. His thoughts had been on Jon Arryn, so he said the first name that came to him.

But the man wouldn't let it go. He held up a hand in front of him as if he was trying to cover something from his eyes. Finally, he said, "Apologies, friend. We'll be on our way."

Jaime made to move past the horses, but the man suddenly disembarked from his mount. "One last thing, my friend. What's your name again?"

"Jon," replied Jaime tersely. "Are you deaf?"

The man got an odd look about him. "Strange. I've never heard of a Jon from Ashemark with golden hair and green eyes like yours. But you know, the Kingslayer…" Jaime's heart skipped a beat. "He's got golden hair like yours, green eyes like yours, and an attitude just like yours."

"Pity. But I am not the Kingslayer. I heard he was a prisoner of Robb Stark's at Riverrun."

The man suddenly grinned. "Now, how would you know where the King in the North was keeping the Kingslayer, friend? No one's supposed to know that."

Too late, Jaime realized his mistake. "Perhaps we can discuss this."

Brienne stepped forward. _About time, wench. _"Let us pass. We mean you no harm, ser."

The head rider smiled. "I know your names, but you don't know mine. Name's Locke. And I've got orders from my lord, Roose Bolton of the Dreadfort, to find the Kingslayer and bring you to him by any means necessary." Locke turned to his companions. "Seize them!"

_Why the fuck did I try to escape on a bridge? _But there was no time to think further, and nowhere to run, for the other riders closed in.

* * *

**A/N: One of my favorite chapters thus far. Jaime is an extremely complex character and writing him is very intriguing. Thanks for reviewing, favoriting, and following. **


	13. Chapter 13: Robb

_Chapter Thirteen: Robb_

"Any word of the Kingslayer?"

"None, Your Grace," replied Ser Wendel Manderly. "A raven from Ser Edmure at Riverrun arrived this morning. No sign of the Kingslayer or his captor."

Robb breathed heavily as he spurred his horse to go faster. _How could Mother be so foolish as to trust the word of Jaime Lannister? _But in his mind, he knew why she would be so desperate as to strike a deal with the Kingslayer. He sympathized with her wishes, truly he did. It just interfered with his plans greatly and threatened to unravel everything he and his bannermen had been fighting for since his father's murder.

After they captured Casterly Rock, Robb had ordered the Kingslayer sent back to Riverrun to keep the Karstarks and the Kingslayer kept as far apart as possible. They planned to spend many days emptying the ancestral seat of House Lannister of its gold, but to everyone's surprise, there was little treasure to plunder. The famous gold of the Lannisters, if it even still existed, was not there. Robb felt as if the mission was a failure; the gold they could have used was not there. All they had was a castle.

_Lord Tywin's castle. _The Old Lion would be coming, with the might of the Iron Throne behind him. To the advice of the Blackfish, Robb sent all of the women and children in Casterly Rock away. Where they went, he didn't care. But he would not execute innocents, no matter what. His lord father would never condemn the execution of prisoners of war, let alone innocents. Once everyone had cleared out of the castle and the little gold that was there secured, Robb put the castle to the torch.

While his men had cheered boisterously at the sight of Casterly Rock burning, Robb felt nothing. He was neither pleased nor despondent nor infuriated. The Young Wolf, the King in the North…he felt nothing rather than bask in a victory that his men claimed would make him a famous character in Westerosi lore.

Shortly thereafter, the army began moving back up to Riverrun. The Blackfish advised Robb, "When he hears, Lord Tywin will come for us like nothing no one has ever seen before. We must be long gone from this place." And then on the long march back, a week past, the raven had come down from the North. _Dark wings, dark words_.

Robb had nearly taken off the head of the man who brought him the news of his brothers' deaths and the sack of his home. He was even more angry than when he was when he had learned of his father's death. _They were innocent boys…one a cripple and the other too young to fight back! How could you, Theon?! _He vowed he would see Theon and the whole of House Greyjoy die slowly if he ever got his hands on them. His bannermen had echoed similar statements.

"Let's sail for Pyke, Your Grace! Smash Balon Greyjoy and the rest of the krakens till their knees break!" roared the Greatjon.

"Like father, like son! Head north, take our homes back, and squish the life out of the ironborn!" called Galbart Glover.

"Justice for the North!" screamed the Karstark soldiers.

Then another raven from Uncle Edmure had come down two days after the last letter, revealing that Catelyn had released Jaime Lannister and had sent him back to King's Landing, ostensibly in exchange for Sansa and Arya. The Karstarks had nearly revolted, screeching how they would offer any reward for the Kingslayer's head. Robb was worried about keeping order, but the ferocity of Grey Wind kept the restless men in check for the time being.

Robb knew that Tywin Lannister by now had heard of the fall of his home. He would now stop at nothing to seek revenge, so Robb forced his men to keep marching, only stopping for an hour or so at a time. _Every moment we aren't in the safety of Riverrun is another moment the Lannisters could fall upon us. _Some nights, he found himself unable to sleep, pacing the floor of his hastily assembled tent, lost in his troublesome thoughts.

When he managed to fall asleep, he had the same dream over and over again. Robb would find himself standing in an unruined Winterfell. The sun shone warmly above his head, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Robb saw his mother and father standing on the balcony, watching the children at play. His siblings were all there: Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon, and Jon Snow. They all looked happy, childlike, and timeless. _Before we left Winterfell._

Then Robb would turn. There she would stand, just as beautiful as the day he met her. She swaddled a child in her arms, cooing softly over the infant as Robb would approach. A crown that matched the one he wore was nestled in her gorgeous brown locks, her doe-eyes shifting from the child to Robb. She leaned up to kiss him and a familiar warm feeling would spread throughout his whole body when she did. Robb gazed down at the child, the perfect blend of the features of the parents.

And then Margaery Tyrell would speak. _"What took you so long, Your Grace?"_

But then the dream would give way to something else. First, he would imagine his brothers' screaming as Theon and his ironborn sons of bitches burned them alive and burned Winterfell. _I have rewarded your faith with treachery_, Theon would say. Next, Robb would be standing in King's Landing, at the steps of the Great Sept of Baelor imagining Joffrey laughing as he took Eddard's head off. _I've killed your father, Young Wolf, but you cannot kill mine, _Joffrey would say. Finally, he would see Tywin Lannister, sitting atop the Iron Throne, screaming that he would kill Robb for his impudence. _"A Lannister always pays his debts! A Lannister always pays his debts!"_

Then the dream would fade. Robb's siblings would turn into smoky wisps, Winterfell would crumble into nothing, the snowfalls grew more and more intense, the day turned to night. Theon, Joffrey, Tywin…they would all appear, smirking at his discomfort, laughing at him. And Margaery…she would disappear, leaving Robb standing in the darkness alone.

Robb woke in a cold sweat. The life he had lost, his family lost when they left Winterfell…_We never should have left…_it made him angry and sad and frustrated and miserable all at once. _But, _a little voice inside his head said, _It's not too late to have a future. It's possible. You just have to reach out and take it._

And Robb would resolve himself even harder not to lose this war. To have his future, even if it was not with Margaery. He pushed harder for Riverrun until Ser Wendel would gently tell him that the men and horses needed to rest. And everything would begin again the next day. He almost wished the Lannisters would show themselves; he felt like driving his sword into another man's chest. Grey Wind was of a similar mind; the direwolf was always feisty these days, even snapping his powerful jaws at Robb once.

The final daggers came when they returned to Riverrun. They came back victors, with some gold to show for their efforts and the legend of the taking of the Rock that would last forever. They _had_ taken Casterly Rock and burned the Lannisport fleet. But it still felt like grim defeat as they reached the ancient stronghold of House Tully. Edmure had come out to greet Robb himself, and the look on his face told Robb that there was more bad news.

"Greetings, Your Grace," said Edmure. Catelyn's brother seemed stoic and reserved for someone welcoming a victorious party.

"Uncle. We'll have need of the vaults. We've the treasure from Casterly Rock and have needs of a place to store it for the time being," said Robb.

"Of course, I shall have some men take it down." Edmure's tone was listless.

Robb arched his brow. "Has something else happened? Uncle, tell me nothing has happened to my mother. Or the Kingslayer." _Please don't let anything more have happened to my poor mother. Or the Kingslayer. Sansa and Arya's lives are tied to his._

Edmure shifted uncomfortably. "My lord father has breathed his last. The gods give him rest. I am now the Lord of Riverrun and the Lord Paramount of the Trident."

The Blackfish had come up behind Robb. "Nephew, is this true?"

"Yes, Uncle. Though I wish it weren't. I would have sent word, but Catelyn insisted that you not be distracted any further on your way back," supplied Edmure.

The Blackfish breathed in heavily and stood as still as a statue. Robb was about to say something, ask if his uncle needed sometime to himself, but Brynden the Blackfish exhaled and said, "Well, at least that stubborn old ox will stop hounding me to get married." The Blackfish strode over the drawbridge and disappeared inside the castle without another word.

"We shall have the funeral on the morrow," decided Robb. Edmure merely nodded. Robb had known Hoster Tully would breathe his last at any day now. The pain his mother was in was probably too much for her to bear. He understood her fervent desire to get the girls back even more now. _But it still wasn't good for my cause_, he thought as Edmure pulled him to the side.

Robb watched as the cavalcade of men carried the spoils of the victory at Casterly Rock into the depths of Riverrun. Every man who passed grinned widely, boasting of how the Lannisters would surely fall any day now. The little gold they had managed to plunder from the Rock seemed to illuminate everyone except Edmure, who just stared as they paraded past.

"Is that all of it?" asked Edmure.

Robb pursed his lips and nodded. "Uncle, I promise next time, you can lead the vanguard. I have plans to march on Moat Cailin and throw those treacherous ironborn back into the sea. Do not worry, if it is glory you so desire, there shall be plenty for your heart's desire come the battle."

"Thank you, Your Grace, but I fear I cannot."

"Why ever not? You are the Lord of Riverrun now, you must lead the forces of the river lords when we take Moat Cailin. You can make amends for your blunder on the Red Fork and allowing Lord Tywin to defeat Lord Stannis."

Edmure shook his head. "I am needed here, Your Grace, to hold my family home. The garrison has…diminished greatly."

Robb glanced up and saw that there were very few men on the battlements of the castle. Come to think of it, there weren't as many outriders or guards on the edge of Riverrun's lands. _Where are all of the guards? _Edmure was visibly nervous, teetering on edge with news that Robb was sure he would not like to hear.

"I left three hundred men from House Frey here to garrison the castle, Uncle. I sent ahead two thousand more Frey soldiers after our victory at Casterly Rock to clear the path for our gold train. _Where are they?_" He hadn't meant to raise his voice, but the men hurrying into the castle suddenly picked up their pace and scrambled away from him.

"They were here, Your Grace. But a few days after the Kingslayer's escape, a raven came down from the Twins. They claim Walder Frey has recalled his forces to defend the Twins. But it is obvious he's deserting our cause. We've had no other word that any army or force threatens the Twins."

"I paid his damn toll!" howled Robb. "I vowed to marry one of his daughters just to get my army on the other side of a damn river! And that old man thinks he can withdraw his men? Is this because of the Kingslayer? I tell you, I'll find him before the Lannisters do. My mother may have released him, but he will be caught again. If Walder Frey thinks that the Kingslayer's escape dooms our cause, he has got…"

Edmure held his hands up, trying to calm Robb down. "Your Grace, I have full confidence that we shall recapture the Kingslayer. Roose Bolton has taken Harrenhal now that Tywin Lannister has abandoned it; the road to King's Landing will take the Kingslayer close to Harrenhal. He will be recaptured. But I do not believe that is why Walder Frey has withdrawn his men."

"Then why has he?"

An odd look passed over the Lord of Riverrun's face. "I could not say, Your Grace. I would advise asking your mother for more insight."

"My mother…what did you do with her after the Kingslayer's escape?"

"We kept her in Father's bedchambers so that she could be with him. But she is technically under house arrest for treason," answered Edmure. "When we knew you to be close, I allowed her out so that you could see her. Everyone is convening in the Great Hall right now, your mother included."

Robb mentally tried to calm down. His mother was probably a wreck after the deaths of Grandfather and Bran and Rickon. _You must be strong for her, even if you are not happy with her actions. She is your mother._

Robb strode into the castle and hurried into the Great Hall, Grey Wind and Edmure at his heels. He found that most, in not all, of his lords were already assembled there. The Greatjon was hugging Catelyn tightly, and Maege Mormont was saying something quietly to her. Some of the other lords kept their distance from Catelyn; Rickard Karstark was deep in conversation with Cley Cerwyn, the former giving scathing glances towards Catelyn.

"The King in the North!" announced the Smalljon as Robb passed. The room went quiet as Robb looked nowhere but upon his mother's grief-stricken face. She seemed to be waiting for him to make the first reaction. _You betrayed my orders, Mother. You have brought discord into our camp and now we have nothing to keep the Lannisters at bay._

Robb wanted to speak to her alone, but there were other matters to attend to first. Too many bouts of bad news were washing out what little glory they earned from their triumph at Casterly Rock. _I must placate my lords, strengthen our resolve._

"My lords!" called Robb, bringing the Great Hall to attention. "We have won a great victory at Casterly Rock. Winter has come for House Lannister!" The hall erupted into cheers and yells. Robb smiled and cheered with them, but he could see out of the corner of his eye that Catelyn was not. On the contrary, she looked downtrodden and apprehensive.

Robb addressed his lords, thanking them for their service, particularly to Lord Jason Mallister, who had lost his entire fleet taking Lannisport. "I was proud to do it, Your Grace, and I would do it again!"

"Have no fear, my lord. You shall have as much gold as you need to rebuild your fleet. Lannister gold to rebuild the very fleet that lost them that gold!"

The Great Hall cheered and laughed loudly at that, but Robb still noticed that Catelyn remained quiet. _I must speak with her. I understand why she did it, but it was still foolish. But how do I convey that without disrespecting my own mother?_

At last, Robb approached the discussion of the death of his grandfather, Lord Hoster Tully. The room quieted as Robb announced that they would hold the customary Tully funeral tomorrow, and that the seven who would push Lord Hoster's boat would be himself, Jason Mallister, the Blackfish, Marq Piper, Tytos Blackwood, Jonos Bracken, and Desmond Grell, the master-at-arms and castellan of Riverrun. Edmure Tully would light the boat ablaze. He was anxious to wrap up the discussion, particularly since his mother seemed close to tears.

At last, Robb ended court. "I thank each and every single man, living and dead, who has fought for our cause. I thank each and every single woman who has put our cause ahead of the needs of their family. We will have our justice on the Lannisters, the Greyjoys, and any other army who is foolish enough to try their luck against the might of the North and the Riverlands! Winter is Coming!"

"Winter is Coming!" bellowed the Northmen.

"Family, Duty, Honor!" chanted the Riverlords.

"The King in the North!" boomed the Northmen.

"The King in the Trident!" called the Riverlords.

"Take your leave, my lords," finished Robb, already standing up and moving towards Catelyn. But it was difficult to get to her, since the lords who were around Catelyn before had resumed their places. The Greatjon wrapped Catelyn in a bear hug, declaring, "The King in the North defeated the Kingslayer once before, he'll do it again!" Maege Mormont clasped Catelyn's hands and said, "You will get your daughters back, my lady, I know it. I do not know what I would have done differently if Cersei Lannister held two of my daughters." Jason Mallister, who hadn't been there before, comforted Catelyn as well.

At last, the lords took their leave, leaving Robb alone with Catelyn and Edmure.

"My son," cried Catelyn, embracing him tightly, her lip quivering. "Bran…and Rickon…"

"I know, Mother." The thoughts that swarmed his head the entire ride back from Casterly Rock were roaring again. "Theon shall pay with his life for his crimes."

"And will that bring my sons, your brothers back? I would give anything to have them back. But now I shall never see them again." Catelyn collapsed into tears, and only Edmure's presence kept Robb from doing the same. Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured Theon torturing his brothers. '_I have rewarded your faith with treachery.'_

"My father…he would know what to do, what to say. And he's gone, too," whispered Catelyn.

"My brother would just tell you to talk to me, Cat," came the gruff yet gentle voice of the Blackfish. Robb realized that he had not seen the Blackfish since they returned hours ago. _He must have been mourning all this time._

"Uncle, did you make peace with Father?" asked Catelyn, wiping her eyes.

The Blackfish smiled. "After thirty years of fighting, I don't think he remembered what started it. I should have said something while he was still alive, but you know your father. That stubborn old ox would never have let me live it down, even in delirium. But yes, Cat. I went to him just now and told him things I ought to have when he was alive."

"What did start it anyway?" asked Edmure.

"He wanted me to marry Bethany Redwyne. We traveled all the way down to the Arbor, you know. I wanted no part of it, but he insisted. But while I was there, I got some advice from Olenna Tyrell to speak up for myself. So I did, and Hoster got angry and called me the black goat of the Tully flock. Ha! Except that our sigil is a fish, so I've been the Blackfish ever since. He's wanted me to stop using that nickname since that day. Only, men have been calling me Blackfish for so long, I don't think that they remember my real name."

Robb laughed at the end of the Blackfish's story. He found himself thinking longingly of Bran and Rickon and wondered if they would have insisted that he stop using the name Young Wolf. _Stannis and Renly Baratheon, Grandfather and Uncle…they were brothers and fought deep into their lives, but at least they were alive to fight._

"News from King's Landing, Robb," said Edmure, changing the subject from Lord Hoster. "Sansa's betrothal to Joffrey has ended."

"What? Is the Imp sending back Sansa and Arya?" asked Robb.

"I'm afraid not. There's still no word on Arya, but Sansa remains the queen's captive. Joffrey has set their betrothal aside in favor of Mace Tyrell's daughter as thanks for their assistance at the Battle of the Blackwater."

Robb's heart, which was already weak from the deaths of Bran and Rickon, shattered at that moment. It felt as if something in him was free falling, like the stories Mother told him about the Eyrie and their Moon Door. "You mean, Margaery Tyrell? Renly's wife?" Robb's voice had cracked slightly as he spoke.

"Yes, that's the one," said Edmure. "But Sansa now has no political use for the Lannisters. Perhaps Cat's actions regarding the Kingslayer's were not completely foolish. I do not think that Tywin Lannister…"

But what Edmure thought about Tywin Lannister, Robb didn't hear. He couldn't think properly. The only image that was in his mind was himself, kneeling at the crypts of Winterfell beside Bran and Rickon. And next to him was an unattractive girl with Walder Frey standing beside her, smirking. On the other side, Joffrey Baratheon was laughing, with Margaery Tyrell on his arm. Margaery kissed Joffrey's cheek as Joffrey taunted him further.

Robb suddenly found himself with a desire to hit something. Without a word to his mother or uncles, he strode out of the Great Hall and found a suit of armor on a plinth, decorated in the armor of House Tully. Robb drew his sword and slashed it, imagining that Joffrey was the suit of armor. _You son of a bitch! I will kill you! I will kill all of you! You cannot hide from me! Winter is coming for you! I am coming for you! _

He hated Joffrey in that moment, more than he ever had. _Torturing my sister isn't enough for you, you pompous piece of shit? You have to inflict your cruelty on the girl I love? _In that moment, Robb knew he loved Margaery, but with every swing of his sword, he remembered Walder Frey, that wet shit who had reneged on their deal, but would no doubt still expect a marriage if Robb wanted his men. It made him angry all over again. Joffrey, Theon, Walder Frey, the Lannisters…he felt so alone, fighting the likes of them as they stole everything that was important to him.

Robb smashed the suit of armor over and over until it was full of dents and the sigil on the front torn to shreds.

"You'll ruin another of your swords," said Catelyn.

Robb turned, and there was his mother and Edmure and the Blackfish. Of them, the Blackfish wore a look of pity and recognition. Edmure looked completely confused. But Catelyn just regarded him sadly.

"I am sorry, Mother," Robb said stiffly. "I was just venting. The loss of my brothers and Grandfather and the Kingslayer was weighing heavily on me." _My words sound fake even to me._

Catelyn shook her head. "Yes, but is there anything else troubling you? That suit of armor has stood in the halls of Riverrun since Aegon's Conquest. You smashed it to pieces without a second thought. Something else is bothering you, my son, I know it. Tell me what it is, let me help you."

"You cannot."

Robb glanced up at the Blackfish; they had spoken simultaneously. The Blackfish didn't seem interested in Robb's emotional outburst, rather in the matters at hand. For that, Robb was grateful. He didn't want them prying, for it was his burden to bear.

Robb changed the subject again. "Why have the Freys left us?" _Damn it, I wanted to discuss something that doesn't remind me of my failures. _But the question had already been posed. Too late now.

Catelyn glanced at the armor on the floor again, eyeing Robb queerly. It was the same look that Edmure had given him when he had asked about Walder Frey earlier. "Walder Frey seems to think you have no intention of upholding your end of the bargain you made to cross the Twins."

"I paid his price. A _king _for a bridge _crossing_," spat Robb. "Where would he get such an idea that I, a Stark, would not keep my word? I will not have that old man disrespecting me like this. We will march on the Twins and reduce it to rubble!"

"Easy, Your Grace, easy," said the Blackfish. "Unfortunately, we need the Freys' men to take back Moat Cailin. And rest assured, Tywin Lannister is already making his plans to destroy us for taking Casterly Rock. We need every man we can get in the fight to come. Slaughtering the Freys over what could turn out to be a misunderstanding…that's the boy in you talking, not the king we need."

Robb took a deep breath. "Then we must assuage Lord Walder's mind. I cannot marry one of his daughters until the fighting is done, but we have gold from the Rock. Perhaps we can give some to him to assure him that we are still allies."

"Whatever you offer, he'll want more," replied Catelyn. "I can go to the Twins, or perhaps have them come here. Renew your pledge to marry one of his daughters, give him some gold and tide him over."

The Blackfish grunted. "I've seen wet shits I've liked better than Walder Frey, but your mother is correct, Your Grace. Sometimes, you must kiss a few boots who happen to have shit both under them and in them." Edmure laughed at that, and Robb joined in chuckling. Catelyn gave a disapproving frown, but a small smile curved her lips.

"We shall send the ravens tonight. The Bolton soldiers who came with us to the Rock are returning to Harrenhal to join with him. I'll have them journey to the Twins to bring our message to Lord Walder. Perhaps they may find the Kingslayer on their way."

"What of the gold, Your Grace?" asked Edmure. "We will have a little leftover. Not much after Lord Mallister takes some to rebuild his fleet and some more to be given to Walder Frey, but some. Won't it be a target for the Lannisters' to take it back?"

Robb shook his head. "Let them come if they wish. We may need it to make more allies than the Freys. Aunt Lysa still refuses to send the Knights of the Vale to our cause, but she might be persuaded with some gold. Or sellswords. The Blackfish is right, we will need every sword we can get in this fight."

"And Mother," Robb added, knowing what he had to do would disintegrate the shards of his already broken heart into dust, but it had to be done. He remembered what his father used to say: _'Duty is about doing the right thing, not the easy thing.'_ Catelyn turned to him, her piercing blue eyes an exact mirror of his own. He knew she knew what he was about to say.

"You have betrayed my express command. I told you I would not release the Kingslayer. You ignored your king's word. Were you not my mother, I would arrest you for treason." The harsh words echoed off the corridor walls, ripping slashes into Robb's soul as he spoke them. Robb turned his gaze to the floor, unable to look her in the eyes. "You will be confined to Grandfather's chambers for now. When I recapture the Kingslayer, I will have you sit and watch as your sworn shield is punished for her treason."

The Blackfish narrowed his eyes. "Your Grace, that seems a bit harsh. No doubt the Kingslayer will be recaptured, and your mother did everything for your sisters, the princesses."

Robb angrily shook his head. "It does not matter. As king, my commands must be followed. How can I ask men to follow my orders if my own mother undermines them? My decision is final."

Edmure spoke up hesitantly. "Should I have some men escort her to her quarters, Your Grace?"

"No, I trust that she will go on her own accord. But have men posted outside her door just in case."

Edmure nodded, bowed, and left. The Blackfish did the same, planting a kiss on the top of Catelyn's head as he departed, a look of pity in eyes. But for Robb or Catelyn, the Young Wolf did not know. At last, Robb and Catelyn were alone in the hall, but now Robb just wanted to be alone. He knew he ought to comfort his mother over their losses, but he couldn't bring himself to do it right now. Robb finally looked upon her face; her eyes were red and she was on the brink of tears. _What kind of a son are you? _He had just condemned her to that of a prisoner in her own girlhood home. _I hope you will forgive me._

He hastily murmured "I'm sorry, Mother." She did not respond to his words, nor did he expect her to. Nonetheless, he kissed her cheek and headed to his quarters, leaving her standing alone in the corridor.

As soon as the door closed, Robb's thoughts of the betrayal of Theon, the deaths of Bran and Rickon, the burning of Winterfell, the murder of his father, the captivity of his sisters, the departure of the Freys, the sentence he had laid upon his own mother, and the marriage of Margaery to Joffrey once more took command of his mind. Before he had even taken a step towards his featherbed or removed his armor, he sank to his knees and began to cry.

* * *

**A/N:** **Whew, that was dark. Without his marriage to Jeyne in the books, Robb is harsher in his dealing with Catelyn. On top of that, knowing Margaery is about to marry the very man he is fighting against...yeah it wouldn't leave you in best state of mind. Anyways, thanks to you guys for all your reviews and favorites and follows!**


End file.
